I 


u 


i 


>  I  ^f^^ 


The 
EXCELLENCY 

OF  THE 

TEMALB  CHARACTSR 

VINDICATED. 


FEINTED    FOR    SXJBSCRIBERS. 


THIRD  IMPROYED    EDITIONf 


THE 

EXCELLENCY 

OF   THE 

VINDICATED; 

BEI5"G 

AN  INVESTIGATION 

tlELATIVE   TO    THE    CAUSE  AND   EFFECTS 
OF 

T^HE  ENCROACHMENTS  OF  MEK 

UPON 

THE  RIGHTS  OF  WOMEN, 

AND 

THE  TOO  FREQUENT  BEGRADATION  AND  COK 
SEQUENT   MISFORTUNES 

OF    THE 

FAIR  BBX. 

/ 

PRINTED   FROar    THE    SECOND    EDITIOJT,. 


By  the  Author  of  the  ^Beauties  of  Philanthropy. 

HARRISBURG: 
PRINTED   BY  FRANCIS   WYETV. 
1828. 


ISPISTLX!  BEDZCATORir 

ALL  that  need  be  said  in  favor  of  the  subsequent  > 
ivork,  (and  which  should  be  a  sufficient  recommenda- 
tion to  entitle  it  to  the  patronage  of  every  friend  to  fe- 
male virtue,  and  cspe'fcaHy  such  parents  as  intend  theit 
children  to  be  their  comfort  in  life  and  an  honor  to  them 
after  their  decease),  is,  that  it  is  intended  as  a  coun- 
terpoise to  those  vile  and  vulgar  publications  which  are 
continually  teeming  from  our  presses,  and  which  bc- 
cretly  instil  the  most  destructive  moral  poison  into  the 
minds  of  the  rising  generation,  and  eventually  prove 
the  destruction  of  thousands  of  the  giddy,  the  volatile, 
and  the  gay.  There  is  no  doubt  but  that  this  perform- 
ance (if  parents  would,  judiciously,  put  it  into  their 
children's  hands)  would  not  only  prove  an  antidote  to 
obviate  the  influence  of  such  pernicious  publications, 
but  also  incline  the  juvenile  mind  to  pursue,  admire^ 
and  gain  the  intrinsic  virtue,  that  pearl  of  E^reat  priceg 
which  alane  can  adorn  the  sex,  and  which  is  infinitely 
superior  to  beauty,  riches  and  fame,  ot  even  honorsj, 
sceptres,  and  crowns,  for  <«beauty  unchaste,  is  beauty 
in  disgrace."  In  order  to  prove  the  authenticity  of  the 
above  assertion,  I  would  ask,  what  is  a  female  crowned 
with  beauty,  honor,  and  riches,  without  virtue?  I  an- 
swer, like  the  painted  sepulchre,  beautiful  without^ 
but  rottenness  and  putrefaction  within;  what  is  slie* 
without  information?  I  answer,  no  better  than  the  wild 
Indian  who  traverses  the  banks  of  the  Osage.  But  to 
reverse  the  question,  what  is  a  real  virtuous  and  pious- 
female,  adorned  with  personal  beauty  and  intellectual 
acquirements?  She  is  no  less  than  the  glory  of  man, 
the  ornament  of  nature,  the  favorite  of  Heaven,  and 
the  daughter  of  Jehovah  himself.     Another  cogent  cir 

1* 


ADDKESS. 

cumstancD  X  would  suggest,  which  should  irresistlbi/ 
stimulate  parents  to  put  such  performances  as  this  ir 
their  daughter's  hands,  and  that  is — a  thousand  snares 
on  every  side  (in  addition  to  injurious  books)  are  laid 
to  entice  them  from  the  flowery  paths  of  virtue,  even 
ivhile  their  parent?^ive,  and  more  especially  after  their 
death.  In  order  to  demonstrate  the  fatality  of  parents 
neglecting  this  precaution,  witness  the  thousands. pf  in- 
continent females  who  crowd  our  cities,  of  all  ranks 
and  of  all  ages,  many  of  whom  are  the  degenerate 
children  of  the  most  respectable  parents,  and  who, 
through  paternal  neglect,  are  the  pests  of  society,  in- 
stead of  being  the  virtuous  mothers  of  respectable  and 
honorable  families.  Finally,  the  present  performance 
is  enriched  with  the  most  elegant  selected  (and  some 
original)  poetry,  in  order  to  make  it  an  entertaining  as 
"Well  as  valuable  acquisition  to  the  fair  sex,  for  whose 
benefit  it  was  composed,  and  to  whom  it  is  dedicated 
with  the  most  profound  respect  and  veneration,  by 
tlx^ir  real  friend,  and  humble  servant, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


iiP'fMEi'aimiimsrm 


THERE  is  no  doubt  but  many  inaccuracies  will  be 
discovered  by  the  microscope  of  criticism,  in  the  sub- 
sequent  desultory  performance.  Even  the  most  super- 
ficial observer  may  descry  inadvertent  tautology;  the 
author  has  seen  this  himself  when  perusing  his  manu- 
script, but  he  found  it  difficult  to  correct  it.  He  was 
unwilling  to  obliterate  the  sentiments  alluded  to,  which 
were,  of  course,  reassumed,  with  considerable  varia» 
tions;  and,  at  any  rate,  were  of  such  importance,  as 
to  induce  him  almost  to  conclude,  they  could  not  be 
too  often  repeated,  in  order  to  inform  the  minds,  and 
reform  the  hearts,  of  the  persons  he  was  solicitous  to 
benefit.  ^He  conceived  it  not  only  excusable,  but,  in 
some  respects,  necessary  to  repeat  sentiments  intrinsic- 
ally  momentous  and  intimately  connected  with  their 
present  and  future  welfare.  -The  author's  phraseology 
and  animadversions  will  prove,  to  a  demonstration,  that, 
so  far  from  courting  the  literary  fame,  which  authors 
in  general  are  so  enamoured  with,  he  turns  his  back, 
not  only  on  this  intellectual  vapour,  but  even  on  the 
road  that  leads  to  popularity.  His  primary  object,  nay, 
the  happiness,  the  only  heaven  he  desires  to  anticipate 
here,  or  enjoy  hereafter,  is  in  pleasing  his  munificent 
Creator,  gaining  his  approbation,  promoting  his  g]ory, 
3RiJ  the  real  happiness  gf  mankiixd.     With  respci^t  i'^ 


viii 

iiteyary  acquirements,  he  profesies  (contrary  to  the 
general  mode  of  his  cotemporaries)  to  be  a  novice,  as 
it  respects  the  radical  rules  of  composition;  -and,  a? 
such,  acknowledges  his  work  to  be  beneath  the  notice 
of  inteliigent \^nd  candid  critics,  who  he  hopes  will 
consider  the  subject  matter  of  this  performance,  and 
not  the  arrangement  of  words,  and  to  whose  superior 
discernment  he  submits  it  with  the  most  humble  and 
distinguished  deference.  But,  at  the  same  time,  the 
snarling  critic  and  literary  debauchee,  who  may  be  in- 
clined  to  retail  their  custon||ft'y  aspersions,  and,  with 
the  Satanic  grin  of  envy,  endeavor  to  invalidate  a  work 
that  lays  the  axe  to  the  root  of  their  villainies;  though 
the  author  would  look  upon  such  with  a  glance  of  pity, 
as  persons  who  facilitate  their  own  ruitt;,  and  enhance 
their  own  infelicity  (for  there  is  no  vice  so  capable  of 
rendering  a  human  being  so  completely  wretched  as 
envy;)  yet  their  illiberal  animadversions  and  malevo- 
lent aspersions,  he  treats  with  the  smile  of  contemptu- 
ous disregard;  and  he  thinks  it  is  consistent  with  his- 
Xnoral  duty,  to  treat,  with  a  total  and  deserved  neglect, 
the  scurrility  of  such  ingenious  calumniators.  The  auth- 
or humbly  acknowledges  that  he  has  been  indifferent 
to  the  systematical  arrangement  of  this  publication;  be- 
cause he  is  well  assured  that  those  who  oppose  the  po- 
pular vices  of  the  age,  will  be  reprobated  with  their 
works,  however  elegant  or  correct  they  may  be,  by 
^he  votaries  of  fashion;  and  plain  honest  people^will 
be  as  well  pleased  with  unadorned  and  unaffected  ad- 
monitions, as  if  they  were  illustrated  with  the  flowers 
of  rhetoric,  the  embellishments  of  fancy,  and  there- 
Unement  of  composition.  Yet  he  has  been  exceeding- 
ly solicitous  to  introduce  no  matter  in  this  performance, 
but  what  is  (to  say  the  least  of  it)  calculated  to  pro- 
mote the  best  interests  of  the  hunian  family.  He,  there- 
fore, earnestly  hopes,  that  his  female  readers  will  at- 
tend, seriously  attend,  to  his  admonitions,  which  are 
eventually  connected  with  their  present  honor  and  fu- 
ture  glory!!     Finally,  Uq  would  recommend  to  their 


aolemii   cdnsideration,    the    subsequent   beautiful    ami 
appropriate  lines  of  Robert  Burns: 

««The  sacred  fiame  of  well  plac'd  love^ 

liuxuriantly  indulge  it, 

But  never  tempt  th*  illicit  rove, 

Tho'  nothing  should  divulge  itj 

1  wave  the  quantum  of  the  sin, 

The  hazard  of  concealing. 

But  Oh!   it  hardens  all  within^ 

And  petrifies  the  feelingf.'* 


PREFACE. 


J  THINK,  I  am  correct,  when  I  affirm,  that  no  sub- 
ject, at  the  present  crisis,  can  be  exhibited  for  pub- 
lic inspection,  more  deserving-  serious  attention  than 
ihe  present:  and  at  no  period  of  the  world  has  the  sub- 
ject befox'e  us  called  more  loudly  for  consideration  than 
it  now  does.  Will  any  man  have  the  effrontery  to  de- 
ny this  assertion,  or  to  suggest  a  contrary  sentiment* 
when  it  is  considered,  that  on  the  female  part  of  soci- 
ety, at  first,  devolves  the  important  care  of  the  rising 
generation ^  those  who  must  be  the  defenders  of  our 
natural  rights,  the  supporters  of  our  valuable  privile- 
ges. It  is  they  who  form  the  mind  to  think,  who  first 
'Heach  the  young,  idea  how  to  shoot y"  when  it  is  most 
susceptible  of  impression.  It  is  they  who  possess 
charms  to  captivate  the  wisest  and  enamour  the  best  of 
men;  to  lead  monarchs  in  golden  chains,  and  even  de- 
cide the  fate  of  nations.  It  is  they  who  may  be  con» 
oidered  the  most  superlatively  amiable,  and  transcend- 
jutly  charming  past  of  the  architecture  of  the  Eternal, 
it  is  they,  to  use  the  emjihatic  language  of  a  scriptural 
writer, 

'*Who  have  borne  the  king  and  all  the  people  that 
bare  rule  by  sea  and  land.  Even  of  them  came  they; 
and  they  nourished  them  up  that  planted  the  vine-yards 
from  whence  the  wine  cometh.  These  also  make  gar- 
ments for  men,  these  bring  glory  unto  men;  and  with- 
out women  cannot  men  be.  Yea,  and  if  men  have  ga- 
thered together  gold  and  silver,  or  any  other  goodly 
thing,  do  they  not  love  a  woman  which  is  comely  iu 
r^Yor  ^nd  beaiity?     And  letting  ^1  those  things  gOj>  do 


XII 

tfiey  not  gape,  and  even  with  open  mouth  fix  their  eyes 
fast  on  her;  and  have  not  all  men  more  desire  unto  her 
than  unto  silver  or  gold,   or  any  goodly  thine:  whatsoev- 
er?    A  manleaveth  his  own  father  that  brought  him  up, 
and  his  own  country,   and  cleaveth  unto  his  wife.      He 
sticketh  not  to  spend  his  life  with  his  wife,  and  remem- 
bereth  neither  father  nor  mother  nor  country.      By  this 
also  ye  must  know,  that  women  have  dominion  over  your 
do  ye  not  labor  and  toil,   and    give  and  bring  all  to  the 
woman?     Yea,  a  man  taketh  his   sword^  and   goeth  his 
way  to  rob,   and  to  steal,   to  sail   upon  the  sea  and  up- 
on the  rivers;  and  looketh   upon    a  lion,   and  goeth  in 
the   darkness;     and    when  he  hath    stolen,   spoiled  and 
robbed,    he  bringeth  it  to  his  love,      Wherefore  a  man 
loveth  his   wife    better  than   father   or    mother*      Yea^ 
many  there  be,   that  have  run  out  of  their  wits  for  wo- 
men,  and  become  servants  for  their  sakes.      Many  also 
have    perished,   have    erred    and    sinned,    for  women. 
And  now,  do  you  not  believe  me  ?     Is  not  the  king  gr^*t 
ff^  his  poweri*     Bo  not   all  regions  fear  to   touch  him^ 
Y'et  did  I   see  him  and  Apome,   the    king's   concubine, 
the   daughter  of  the  admirable    Barticus  sitting  at    the 
right  hand  of  the  king,   and  taking  the  crown  from  the 
king's  head,   and  setting  it  upon  her  own  head:   she  al- 
so   struck  the   king   with    her  left   hand.      And  yet  for 
all  this,    the  king  gaped  and  gazed  upon  her  with  open 
mouth:  if  she  laughed  upon  him,   he  laughed  alhO:  but 
if  she  took  any  displeasure  at  him,  the  king  was  fain  to 
flatter,   that  she  might  be  reconciled  to  him  again.      O^ 
ye  men,   how  can  it  be  but  women  should  be  so  strong, 
seeing  they  do  thus?*'* 

Finally,  it  is  with  them  that  the  most  profound  poli- 
ticians, the  v/isest  statesmen,  the  most  invincible  cham- 
pions, the  greatest  generals,  the  ingenious  artists,  and 
Qven  pulpit  orators,  spend,  on  an  average,  two-thirds 
of  their  most  happy  and  pleasurable  moments.      Then, 


*K§4ra3j,  iv.  15t-S?, 


xin 

.i.iportance  to  inform  the  mind  and  cstabllsk 
of   women;  to   erect   ramparts,   in    order  to 
ction  in  its    mad,   and   too    successful    careerj 
floodgates  of  temptation  which  modern  fashions 
».-    vj   <.  ^>ened;   shelter  female  innocence   from  the  inno- 
vations of  libertinism;  and,  finally,   nurture  the  smallest 
bud  of  their  juvenile    virtue    to  its   full   blossom,   and 
thereby  promote  individual  tranquillity,   domestic  feli- 
city, national  prosperity,   and  the  honor  and  happinQsg 
ef  posterity, 


EXCELLENCY 

OF   THE 

FEMALE  CHARACTER 

VINDICATED, 


CHAPTER  I. 

Preliminary  Observations  on  Modern  Fashions,  and  their 
Effects  on   Society. 


WHEN  so  many  spurious,  futile,  and  perni-^ 
pious  publications  are  teeming  from  our  presses, 
which  tend  to  destroy  social  intercourse,  legiti- 
mate association,  female  innocence,  and  moral 
obligation;  and  which  are  read  with  avidity,  dis- 
seminated \vith  alacrity,  and  rewarded  with  po- 
pularity: wlien  it  can  be  proved,  to  a  mathemati- 
cal certainty,  that  as  soon  as  depravity  of  mor- 
als in  a  nation  becomes  general,  popular,  and 
fashionable,  the  seed  of  destruction  is  engender- 
ed, the  preliminary  to  degradation  is  advancing, 
and  that  nation  begins  to  nod  to  its  fall:  I  say, 
when  this  is  the  case,  may  I  not  venture  to  take 
lip  my  pen  to  endeavor  at  least  to  counterpoise  tiiie^ 
deleterious  effects  which  the  numerous,  popular, 
though  injudicious,  p^iblications  of  this  degener- 
ate age,  unquestionably  have  to  des>tr*oy  female 
virtue  and  domestic  tranquillity.  I  will  be  bold 
t^  say,  tJiat  a  dcbaucliee  the  most  artful*  or  a 


6  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

libertine  the  most  proficient  in  the  arts  of  seduc- 
tion, could  not  wish  a  more  efficacious  auxiliary, 
a  more  effectual  stimulous  to  facilitate  his  designs, 
and  to  accomplish  his  wishes,  than  the  female 
fashions,  and  rnaay  of  the  popular  publications 
which  are,  a-la-mode^  the  order  of  the  day. 

My  primary  object,   in  the  subsequent  stric- 

:res,  is  t')  dcmfonstrate,  by  arguments  as  plain 
as  A,  B,  C,  and  clear  as  a  ray  of  light,  that 
the  radical  causes  of  the  miseries  and  })rematurc 
degradation  of  a  large  majority  of  the  human 
race,  are  the  effects  of  paternal  indulgence  and 
fraternal  neglect 

Though  my  talents  for  composition  are  not  to 
be  compared  to  those  of  some,  who  merely  use 
them  for  the  purpose  of  exciting  the  laughter  of 
the  volatile  and  the  gay;  and,  at  the  same  time, 
meet  the  disapprobation  of  the  wise  and  the  good, 
cause  a  blush  on  the  cheek  of  modesty,  and  a 
groan  from  the  breast  of  phihinthropy;  yet  eve- 
ry friend  to  the  human  family  will,  I  am  confi- 
dent, be  inclined  to  approve  of  my  v/ell  m^anl 
endeavors  for  the  good  of  mankind,  though  tlu  j 
cannot  applaud  my  qualifications.  But  it  should 
in  justice,  be  remembered,  that  while  the  writ- 
Oi's  alluded  to  arc  abundantly  supplied  with  op- 
poi'tunities  for  composition,  pecuniary  and  scho- 
lastic resources  and  conveniencies,  1  am  destitute 
of  all  these  accommodations. 

Stimulated   by  disinterested  philanthropy,   af- 
ter the  avocatioiis  of  each  day  is  past,  I  appropri- 
ate tliat  season  which  others  necessarily  spend  in 
sleep  to  the  arrangement  and  composition  of  thi- 
nd  my  oilier  works. 

The  following,  therefore,  may  be  very  proper 
1y  ciII^mIj    ''Midnight  Thoughts  on  the  JVrdclicd 


YINDICATED.  l 

ms$  existing  in  civilised  SoGietfj;^^  \yhicli,  in?  ma- 
yiy  respects,  may  be  considered  an  abyss  of  hi 
man  degeneracy,  strewed  with  briars  and  thorns, 
instead  of  a  terrestrial  paradise^  carpeted  with 
roses,  which  wo'.ild  undoubtedly  be  ^hc  case,  ^verc 
the  votaries  of  civilization  as  tenacious  of  main- 
taining the  characters  of  virtuous  and  benevolent 
persons,  as  they  are  those  of  iionorable  and  right 
honorable,  reverend  and  right  reverend,  excel- 
lency, &:c.  ^:c.  The  most  superlicial  view  of  ci- 
vil!: vage  nations,  where  literature 
il^»'^  "'* '"»u)rance  prevails,  williur- 
nislj  viui  woeful  exhibitions, 
that  L.A  cii  )ugn  lo  nuiKO  female  delicacy  shudder, 
sensibility  sigh,  and  humanity  meit  into  tears; 
and  what  enhances  the  painful  sensation  is,  the 
inelanch'>ly  refiectio!!,  that  the  mis,  ries  alluded 
to,  are  not  diminishfng,  tliroai^ih  the  iniiuence 
and  examples  of  the  virtuous,  but  are,  ahis!  ac- 
cumulating through  tlie  baneful  ailurcmeiits  of 
the  vicious. 

A\  hen  I  survey  actual  scenes,  which  seem  al- 
most too  tragical  to  be  authentic,  too  romaatr 
to  be  real,  too  horrible  to  meet  the  ear  or  eye  oi 
the  humane:  and  \^iien  I  reflect  thkt  it  is  utterly 
impossible  for  me  to  reiiiedy  tliose  scenes  of  hu- 
man woe,  an  involuntary  desire  ruslics  into  my 
mind  to  be  lodged  in  some  solitary  wilderness, 
where!  might  weep  for  the  wretchedness  and  de- 
gradatioi»  of  my  fellow -creatures,  children  of  the 
same  original  paretits,  create  i  ihv  high  beatitude 
in  heaven,  and  to  be  lords  of  thi,  creation  on  earthy 
a  little  lower  than  the  angels,  but,  on  accminf 
of  mor.  1  evil,  reduced  one  step  below  tUo  brute^ 
ndbut  one  above  iuferiial  spiiits* 


B  FEMALE  CHABACTER 

I  profess  to  be  a  philanthi^pist.  I  seek  no  bet 
ter  niune.  And  none  but  siicli  can  anticipate  tlie 
painful  feelings  which  I  endure  while  surveying, 
in  sympathetic  thought,  the  sufferings  of  the  hu- 
man family  from  Adam  to  his  youngest  son.  And 
though  the  retrospect  is  gloomy  and  produces 
sad  regret,  the  mind,  unbidden,  still  recurs  to 
the  same  melancholy  exhibitions,  still  anticipates 
the  same  tragical  catastroplies. 

How  little  think  the  ricli  and  tho  great,  while 
basking  in  the  sun-shine  of  prosperity,  swimming 
in  wealth,  and  enveloped  in  luxuries,  while 
spending  their  golden  moments  in  useless  mirth, 
if  not  sensual  gratifications;  how  little  dp  the} 
think,  that  while  they  are  crowned  with  abun 
dance,  many  are  bereaved  of  the  necessaries  of 
life!  while  they  are  solaced  by  their  friends,  ma- 
ny are  cruelly  tortured  by  their  enemies,  with- 
out an  e}  e  to  pity,  or  a  hand  to  help!  How  ma- 
ny are  innocently  bound  in  galling  chains,  and 
shut  up  in  dungeons,  while  they  strut  in  their 
splendid  mansions;  who  eat  the  bread  of  woe  and 
drink  the  cup  of  grief,  while  they  are  regaled 
^vltli  the  most  savory  dishes  and  tlie  most  deli- 
cious Viands!  Ilov/  many  are  scorched  by  the 
vertical  rays  of  the  sun  in  the  torrid  zone,  while 
others  are  pierced  by  the  untimely  blasts  in  the 
frigid  zone;  who  shrink  from  shelter  in  vain  into 
the  cheerless  abode  of  penury;  while  they  are  ac- 
commodated with  artificial  canopies  to  court  the 
gentle  bresze:-;,  or  with  warm  reti^eats  to  beguile 
theseverity  of  winter's  gloomy  reign!  How  ma- 
i^y  are  exposed  to  all  tiie  horrors  of  sanguinary 
^varfare,  whtn  inillon  rises  against  nation,  army 
against  army,  fiimily  against  family,  and  indi- 
vidual against  individual,  who  armed  for  the  war, 
and  rush  with  the  iui-y  of  lions,  and  the  impetuo 


VINDICATED.  19 

^ity  of  demons  to  sjvjU  each  otller^s  blood;  while 
they  are  enjoying  peace  and  all   its'ccnromitant 
blessings!     How  many  weeping  chiidren    stand 
around  the  dying  beds  of  their  tender,  but,  alas! 
expiring  parents.     Like  monumental  grief,  they 
stand  to  take  a  long  and  last  farewell,  while  their 
parents'  solicitiide  for  their  welfare  continues  to 
the  last.     A  blessing  is  all  their  patrimonial  in-r 
heritance;  and  with  it  they  arc  thrown  defence- 
less and   forlorn  on   an   unfriendly  and  unfeeling 
world!     Here  [  must  cease.    My  palpitating,  tre- 
mulous heart  almost  weeps  blood  at  anticipating 
the  nameless  and  latent  woes  that  await  the  un- 
conscious innocents.     Fain  would  I  relinquish  the 
painful  prospective,  but  it  recurs  with  redoubled 
force  to  my  wounded  mind.     And  you,  my  dear 
children,   my  earthly  riches,   and  my   all,    who 
are  now  wrapped  in  the  arms  of  peaceful  slum- 
ber,  unconsciows  of  your  future  fate,   and  dead  to 
future  woe,  perhaps,  these  scenes  of  toil,  these 
incessant  sti'uggles  with   human  depravity,  de 
gradation    and  {poverty;    these   sad   vicissitudes 
w  hich  render  life  one  scene  of  suffering  and  woe, 
will  be  your  portion,   when  your  earthly  parents 
are  mouldering  to  their  nati^'e  dust,  the  sport  of 
worms  and   the  victims  of  corruption.       What 
tongue  can  tell,   what  imagination  can  conceive 
the  miseries  peculiar  to  the  (iefenceless  orphan^ 
especially  if  a  female;  perhaps  led  into  the  devi- 
ous paths  of  folly   by  the  votaries  of  seduction.^ 
those  murderers  of  the  human  soul,  those  traitors 
to  the  human  race,   who  like  the  prowling  wolf  in 
the  woodlands,  or  the  voracious  shark  in  the  bri 
jiy  deep,  go  about  seeking  whom  tliey  may  des- 
troy and  ruin.    Torture  of  mind,  agony  of  heart, 
depravity*  of  moralsj  a  torpid  insensibility  to  ^1| 


00  FEMALE  CHARA€TEM 

moral  obligations,  are  the  result  of  their  ravages 
oil  the  person  of  the  ruined  female  orphan. 

How  much  more  merciful  would  it  be  for  the  se 
ilucers  and  traducers  of  defenceless  female  inno- 
cence, to  assassinate  the  unconscious  victims  of 
their  brutal  lust,  and    send  them  guiltless  to  a 
world  of  spirits^,'  before  they  lay  the  foundation  of 
accumulated  crimes  and  complicated  degradation; 
I  had  almost  said,  that  /ni^rder  was  no  crime  when 
compared   to  seditciion;  because  tlie  former  may 
free  the  soul  from  terrestrial  infelicity,   and  land 
it  in  eternal  glory;  while  the  latter  produces  su- 
preme wretchedness  here,  and   unutterable  tor^ 
ment  hereafter;  for,  if  J  have  no  intention  to  conx- 
ruit  a  crime,  but  am  solicited   and  persuaded  by 
another  to  perpetrate  it,  tliat  person  is  the  effi- 
cient,  the  virtual  cause  of  whatever  sufferings  I 
endure  for  the  perpetration  of  that  crime.     How 
grejit,  how  enormously  great,  must  the  guilt  of 
such  characters  be,   who  take  a  peculiar  delight 
to  undermine  the  foundation  of  civil  society,   by 
committing  such  sable  crimes,  as  cry  to  Heaven 
fcr  more  plagues  than  vengeance  has  in  store;  for 
there  is  a  train  of  evils  too  horrid  to  mention  con- 
nected with  this  crime  more  than  any  other:  for 
instance,  in  the  case  of  murder,  one  person  is  on- 
ly injured:  in  drunkenness,  the  delinquent  is  gen- 
erally tiic  greatest  sufferer:  in  envy,  the  culprit 
is  always  the  most  tormented:  and  the  thief  who 
iuibs  me  of  my  purse,  robs  me  of  trash  which  may 
easily  be  replaced  with  industry  and  economy: 
but  the  villain  who  robs  the  innocent  defenceless 
virgin  of  her  virtue,   bereaves  society  of  a  gem 
that  might  become  its   brightest  ornament,   and 
its  boast,  namely,  the  virtuous  mother  of  a  respec- 
table family;  and  lets  loose,  sends  forth,  consti- 
tutes and  «iuali£es  a  pest,  a  curse,  a  disgrace  to 


VINDICATED.  U 

society,  who  will  in  future  live  to  ensnare  and 
enslave  otliers,  trample  upon  her  own  character, 
expose  her  constitution,  murder  her  soul,  and  at 
last  die  the  victim  of  a  fearful  and  fatal  disorder, 
and  a  tortured  mind,  cursing  with  her  last  breath 
the  murderer  of  her  body  and  soul. 

This  is  no  theatrical  exhibition,  no  specula- 
tive reasoning:  the  misfortune  is,  these  observa- 
tions are  too  true.  To  particularize  the  real  num- 
ber of  prostitutes  v^ho  crowd  our  city,  (some  of 
fliem  not  more  than  tw  elve  or  fourteen  years  old) 
would  make  even  a  hoary  headed  debauchee  shrink 
appalled,  and  shock  the  most  unprincipled  liber- 
tine. And  the  reason  these  sJiocking  sights  arc 
viewed  with  indifference  by  the  professors  of  re- 
ligion, as  well  as  the  profane,  is,  because  they 
ftre  so  common  and  numerous  that  the  heart  of  cha~ 
rity  is  not  warmed  by  viewing  them.  The  social 
tear  of  benevolence  forgets  to  flow  unbidden,  and 
the  wide  wish  of  philanthropy  to  dilate  for  them* 

As  we  inadvertently  suggested  a  few  spontanc 
ons  thoughts  to  those  who  call  themselves  the  rir' 
and  the  great,  we  will  take  the  liberty  to  resum 
the  subject  by  the  following  desultory  remarks. 

The  rich,  as  well  as  the  poor,  are  particular- 
ly interested  in  the  subject  of  our  investigation. 
Indeed,  the  prosperity^  nay,  the  very  existence, 
of  society,  is  connected  with  it.  The  children  of 
rich  parents  are,  by  no  means,  out  of  the  reach  of 
disaster;  and,  however  they  may  feed  their  vani- 
ty and  nurture  their  pride,  they  are,  in  common 
with  othei^,  obnoxious  to  diversified  vicissitude^^ 
misfortunes  and  temptations.  With  sympathetii 
pity,  I  view  the  futile,  vain,  and  absurd  pursuits 
of  the  personages  who  compose  what  are  called 
thf  higher  circles,  though  many  of  them  are  not 
only  the  children  of  poor  parents,  but  were  origi- 


!2£  FEMALE    CHARACTER 

iially  ipoor  themselves;  but  either  by  industry  oj 
economy,  by  fraud  or  force,  have  accumulated 
riches,  and  of  course,  popularity;  when  lo!  they 
forget  their  origin,  and  look  down  with  sovereign 
contempt  upon  their  poor  brethren. 

Wlien  the  rich  are  so  peculiarly  favored  by  Pro 
vidence  above  milJions  of  their  fellow  creatures 
how  great  must  their  ingratitude  be,  if  they  ne 
gleet  to  return  their  thankful  acknowledgments 
to  the  Author  of  all  their  mercies;  and  with  their 
lives,  as  well  as  their  lips,  celebrate  the  great 
Creator's   praise.     Let  us  inquire  for  wkat  pur 
pose  does  the  Deity  bestow  riches  upon  a  part  ol 
the  liuman  race.     Is  it  to  spend  in  vanity  and  su- 
perfluity?     Surely  not:  but  to  be  appropriated  to 
the  most  benevolent  purposes,  to  wit,   the  support 
of  God's  poor;  for  lie  sends  the  poor  and  needy  to 
the  rich  man's  door,   to  try  his  heart;  and  the 
same  pity  which  he  shows  to  them,  will  God  shov/ 
to  him  at  a  future  day.  And  every  rich  man  should 
pray  for  power  to  say  and  feel  the  force  of  these 
fines: 

^'Teach  me  to  feel  another's  woe 

And  hide  the  fault  I  see: 
The  mercy  I  to  others  show. 

That  mercy  show  to  me  =  " 

There  are  three  grand  objects  that  the  ricL 
have  in  view  whilst  accumulating  this  world's 
goods.  First,  a  false  notion  they  entertain  of 
the  power  and  respectability  of  riches;  a  desire 
of  making  a  magnificent  appearance  in  the  world; 
and,  above  all,  a  resolution  to  leave  their  chil- 
di*^n  independent  fortunes.  These  are  the  phan- 
toms which  too  many  live  and  die  in  the  pursuit 
of;  who  spend  their  short  probationary  state,  iu 


VINDICATED,  2§ 

providing  with  great  economy  and  industpy,  for 
their  children,  that  which  proves  their  ruin  and 
disgrace.  Riches  cannot  produce  a  moment  of 
real  happiness,  though  all  in  tlie  world  were  at 
our  disposal.  Nay,  riclies  have  the  direct  ten- 
dency to  destroy  all  real  felicity  hy  drawing  man 
from  the  pursuit  of  religious  duties;  and  are  of- 
ten the  source  of  burdensome  cares  and  perplex- 
ing disquietudes. 

How  preposterous  and  absurd  it  is  for  people  to 
spend  tlieir  time  in  hoarding  up  riches,  for  the 
splendid  accommodation  of  their  children,  when 
they  are  in  their  graves;  and  yet,  forsooth,  ne- 
glect to  inculcate  the  precepts  of  moral  rectitudo 
and  virtue  on  their  juvenile  minds.  The  thought 
never  occurs  to  them,  that  wealth  can  only  make 
them  appear  externally  happy  and  respectable^ 
but  that  virtue  alone  can  make  them  appear  ex- 
ternally and  feel  internally  happy,  amidst  all  the 
vicissitudes  incident  to  our  mortal  state.  They 
will  not  learn  wisdom  from  experience.  We  see 
the  extravagant  children  of  parsimonious  parents, 
spend  in  vanity  and  dissipation  the  immense  for- 
tunes accumulated  by  their  progenitors :  and  whe^i 
that  is  gone,  having  been  brought  up  in  idleness, 
and  unaccustomed  to  industry,  the  spell d thrift- 
makes  use  of  unlawful  means  to  replenish  his 
purse;  and  he  is  consequently  brought  to  a  pre- 
mature and  ignominious  end.  Thus  are  they,  by 
the  impolicy  of  their  injudicious  parents,  incapa- 
citated for  performing  their  duty  to  society,  and 
to  their  Almighty  Creator.  Finally,  when  a  man 
accumulates  riches  for  the  purpose  of  ofi^ering  a 
sacrifice  at  the  shrine  of  vani- y  and  ambition,  he 
falls  into  sundry  temptatior^s,  and  pierces  him- 
self and  his  progeny  with  many  sorrows.  He 
>j>ens  the  floodgates  of  temptation  upon  tht m  tern- 


34  FEMALE  CHARACTL.. 

porally,  and  shuts  the  gates  of  Heaven  against 
them  eternally.  Hence,  we  find  it  is  not  only 
the  children  of  the  poor  that  excite  our  sympa- 
thetic commisseration,  hut  also  those  of  the  rich. 
It  would  be  too  tedious  and  painful,  and  perhap$ 
indelicate  to  mention  the  most  prominent  snares 
and  temptations  to  which  they  are  exposed. 
Their  education;  the  examples  placed  before 
them:  the  sentiments  inculcated  upon  their  minds, 
are  all  too  often  in  open  hostility  with  the  best  in- 
terests of  their  immortal  parts,  as  well  as  their 
domestic  tranquil! lity.  Where  there  is  not  suffi- 
cient virtue  found  in  parents  and  teacliers^  to  ad- 
minister wholesome  instruction,  there  can  be 
found  no  aliment  for  domestic  tranquillity.  It  is 
among  the  rich  and  great  tliat  not  only  war,  hut 
those  scandalous  fashions  imported  from  abroad 
originate.  The  middling  class  soon  participate 
in  these  fashions  however  immodest.  And,  final- 
ly, the  commonality,  if  they  cannot  literally  im- 
itate, will,  at  any  rate,  mimic  their  superiors  in 
point  of  wealth.  There  is  an  opprobrious  grada- 
tion in  this,  as  in  all  other  vices.  With  a  super- 
ficial glance,  we  may  recognize  ladies  high  in  es- 
timation, and  in  ti  e  liighest  circles,  slaves  to  the 
fashions  in  their  most  obscene  and  indecent  ex- 
tremes. We  may  even  see  the  consorts  and  daugh- 
ters of  the  guardians  of  the  public  weal  strutting 
through  the  streets,  with  the  disgraceful  and  ob- 
scciic  appearances  peculiar  to  lewd  women,  with 
appendages  and  exhibitions  which  I  am  ashamed 
to  name.  We  may  then  ask,  without  at  present 
descending  to  particulars,  is  there  a  grade  in  hu- 
miliation to  which  we  may  not  be  reduced?  Is 
there  a  vice  we  may  not  render  fashionable?  Is 
there  a  precipice  of  luxurious  indulgence  down 
wkicU  we  may  not  precipitate  ourselves,  when  it 


VINDICATED.  £ 

IS  tushi()na^)lc  so  to  do?  One  of  the  most  peiMiicioiis 
circumstances  attending  the  vice  under  consider- 
ation is,  that  it  is  most  prevalent  amongst  the 
characters  that  should  discourage  it  most.  Were 
tiiey  to  discountenance  and  disapprove,  by  the 
most  vindictive  censures,  and  condemn  the  vota 
ries  thereof  to  the  retreats  of  neglect  and  con- 
tempt, the  most  beneficial  consequences  would 
unquestionably  result.  Were  we  to  take  a  coun- 
termarch into  the  rear  of  time,  and  view  the  ri- 
gid virtues  of  our  ancestors,  we  might  easily  re- 
fuse to  be  slaves  to  fashion;  and  we  need  not  fear 
to  be  outcasts  and  a  derision.  But  alas!  a  scru- 
pulous delicacy  towards  tlie  articles  of  modern 
politeness,  which  too  often  adhere  to  the  gown  and 
band,  the  clergy  as  W'cll  as  the  laity,  seems  to 
fetter,  in  adamantine  chains,  every  circle  and 
rank  in  society:  yes,  even  the  clergy  themselves 
have  been  veiy  dillidcnt  in  giving  umbrage  to 
conscious  criminality.  They  have  view^ed,  with 
complacency,  that  on  which  they  should  have 
looked  witii  detestation  and  horror.  They  have, 
spoken  peace,  peace,  wlien  God  had  not  intended 
it.  Even  grave  divines,  whose  appearance  com 
mands  respect,  and  who  are  celebrated  for  thcii 
profound  erudition,  will  view  with  indidercnce, 
and  even  without  cautioning,  their  auditories  ai* 
rayed  in  all  the  indelicate  fashions  and  voluptu 
ous  appendages,  peculiar  to  the  age  iu  which  we 
live. 

When,  therefore,  our  spiritual  guides  exhibi 
such  lassitude  iu  the  discharge  of  the  duty  they 
owe  to  their  fellows-creatures  and  to  their  God, 
and  which  they  have  solemnly  undertaken  to  fal- 
ill;  to  whom  shall  we  look,  or  where  shall  vvc 
turn  to  find  wholesome  admonitions.-'  If  the  sacred 
temples  of  the  Eternal  are  periodically  crowds 


26  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

with  the  votaries  of  fashion;  and  if  the  ambassa- 
dors of  Heaven  suffer  them  to  come  in  and  go  out 
without  suggesting  even  a  mild  reproof,  can  we 
expect  any  thing  betterthan  that  the  most  obscene 
fashions  that  ever  disfigured  and  disgraced  the 
human  family,  should  become  the  order  of  the 
day. 

I  smile  to  myself  when  I  take  a  retrospective 
view  of  the  ludicrous-^  fashions  of  former  times; 


*In  confirmation  of  the  above  assertion,   I    will  subjoin 
the  following"   letter: 

To  the  Editor  of  the  Jlmerican  Mas;azine. 

Sm — I  hope  to  be  pardoned,  if  I  find  fault  with  things 
which  are,    or  have  been,    or  will  be. 

The  long- trails  of  the  ladies  gowns  were  a  fashion  in 
which  all  regarl  to  taste  was  sacrificed.  \l  appears 
Impossible,  that  ladies,  who  are  under  no  bias,  and  in- 
fluenced  sclrly  hy  a  regard  to  elegance,  should  adopt 
such  afashioji— a  fashion  that,  besides  its  inconvenience? 
and  the  expense  it  incurs,  can  hardly  be  reconciled, 
with  neatr.  ss.  TL  is  perfectly  right,  in  manufacturing 
countries,  i.jr  ladies  to  draw  fifty  or  a  hundred  thou- 
sand yards  of  silk  upon  the  grpund:*  for  the  destruc- 
tion of  it  is  a  public  benefit.  But  it  betrays  a  total 
want  of  tcate  and  degance  in  dress -^  and  when  the  Ame- 
rican ladies  adopted  the  fashion,  they  paid  fifteen  or 
twenty  thousand  pounds  to  foreign  nations,  for  the  trou- 
ble of  being  very  indeganily  dressed. 

The  enormous  head-dresser,  which  were  fashionable^^ 
a  few  years  ago,  were  beyond  the  bounds  of  taste,  and 
»nd  so  troviblesome  as  to  be  very  short-lived. — Huge 
bonnet'i,  lo^^'ed  w'th  fjnery  are  equally—But  these 
xnust  not  te  nr.cntioned  the  present  year. 

*The   c,.:ldren   of  the  poor   might  he  clothed  with  ths 


VINDICATED.  «r 

the  diversity  and  peculiarity  of  which  are  too  te- 
dious to  mention;  but  I  blush  with  sliame,  and 
am  almost  petrified  with  liorror  and  solicitude  for 
the  honor  of  human  nature,  when  I  survey  the  fe- 
male fashions  of  tornier  times,  which  arc  both 
ludicrous  and  lascivious  to  behold.     On  the  com- 


The  long'-quartered  shoe,  for  a  long*  time,  kept  in 
countenance  a  very  indelicate  custom,  of  putting"  on 
shoes  in  the  streets  and  in  public  assemblies. 

A  lady  could  hardly  walk  a  square,  or  go  down  a 
country  dance,  without  being*  obliged  to  stop  and  pull 
up  the  quarters  of  her  shoes.  The  gentlemen  were 
often  in  the  same  situation.  Is  this  consistent  with 
taste,   elegance  or  convenience? 

But  when  long-quartered  shoes  were  discarded,  largC 
buckles  succeeded;  which  are  not  only  disproportioned 
to  the  foot,  but  very  painful.  Such  is  the  size^  that 
a  gentleman  cannot  wear  a  buckle  without  a  false  strap; 
and  even  then  it  is  a  chance,  that  his  straps  will  be 
^?[)pirig'  aoout  his  feet,  as  he  walks  the  streets  or  is 
dancing.  Besides,  it  is  impossible  to  suit  so  large  a 
buckle  to  the  foot-^it  must  be  painful — and  it  is  amus- 
ing enough  to  hear  a  beau  damning  his  buckles  forgiv- 
ing him  uneasiness;  that  is,   damning  fashion. 

The  best  proportioned  shoe  will  always  keep  upon 
the  foot,  and  the  best  proportioned  buckle  will  always 
sit  easy.  True  taste  never  deviates  from  these  propor- 
tions. 

Americans  could  hardly  run  into  absurdities  of  these 
kinds,  were  they  to  consult  their  own  taste  or  interest 
It  is  the  authority  of  foreign  manners  which  keeps  us 
in  subjection,  and  gives  a  kind  of  sanction  to  follies, 
which  are  pardonable  in  Europe,  but  inexcusable  in 
America. 

TITUS  BLUNT. 


£6  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

with  the  votaries  of  fashion;  and  if  the  ambassa- 
dors of  Heaven  suffer  them  to  come  in  and  go  out 
without  suggesting  even  a  mild  reproof,  can  we 
expect  any  tiiingbetterthan  that  the  most  obscene 
fashions  that  ever  disfigured  and  disgraced  the 
human  family,  should  become  the  order  of  the 
day. 

I  smile  to  myself  when  I  take  a  retrospective 
view  of  the  ludicrous^  fashions  of  former  times; 


*In  confirmation  of  the  above  assertion,   I    will  subjoin 
the  following"   letter: 

To  the  Editor  of  the  Jimerican  Mas;azine. 

Sin — I  hope  to  be  pardoned,  if  I  find  fault  with  thing's 
which  are,    or  have  been,    or  will  be. 

The  long- trails  of  the  ladies  gowns  were  a  fashion  in 
which  all  regard  to  taste  was  sacrificed.  It  appears; 
"impossible,  that  ladies,  who  are  under  no  bias,  and  in 
fiuenced  scl.  ly  hy  a  regard  to  elegance,  should  adopt 
such  a  fashion— a  fashion  that,  besides  its  inconvenience^ 
and  the  expense  it  incurs,  can  hardly  be  reconcile4, 
with  neat?v  s ,.  K  is  perfectly  right,  in  manufacturing 
countries,  i\jr  ladies  to  draw  fifty  or  a  hundred  thou- 
sand yards  of  silk  upon  the  ground;*  for  the  destruc- 
tion of  it  is  a  public  benefit.  But  it  betrays  a  total 
want  of  tu.'tie  and  thgance  in  dr^sSy  and  when  the  Ame* 
iucan  ladies  adopted  the  fashion,  they  paid  fifteen  or 
twenty  thousand  pounds  to  foreign  nations,  for  the  irou^ 
ble  of  being  very  inelegantly  dressed. 

The  enormous  head-dresser,  which  were  fashionable,^ 
a.  few  years  ag-o,  were  beyond  the  bounds  of  taste,  and 
*nd  so  troublesome  as  to  be  very  short-lived. — Huge 
bonnets,  loii'ted  w'th  fjnery  are  equally— But  these 
must  not  te  nr.  .lUioued  the  present  year. 

*7'ae   cUdren   of  the  poor   might  be  clothed  with  thi 

irimmlngs^ 


VINDICATED.  «: 

the  diversity  and  peculiarity  of  which  are  too  te- 
dious to  mention;  but  I  blush  with  shame,  and 
am  almost  petrified  with  liorror  and  solicitude  for 
the  honor  of  human  nature,  when  I  survey  the  fe- 
male fashions  of  tornier  times,  which  arc  both 
ludicrous  and  lascivious  to  behold.     On  the  com- 


The  long*-quartered  shoe,  for  a  long*  time,  kept  in 
countenance  a  very  indelicate  custom,  of  putting*  on 
slioes  in  the  streets  and  in  public  assemblies. 

A  lady  could  hardly  walk  a  square,  or  go  down  a 
country  dance,  without  being  obliged  to  stop  and  pull 
up  the  quarters  of  her  shoes.  The  gentlemen  were 
often  in  the  same  situation.  Is  this  consistent  with 
taste,   elegance  or  convenience? 

But  when  long-quartered  shoes  were  discarded,  largC 
buckles  succeeded;  which  are  not  only  disproportioned 
to  the  foot,  but  very  painful.  Such  is  the  size»  that 
a  gentleman  cannot  wear  a  buckle  without  a  false  strap; 
and  even  then  it  is  a  chance,  that  his  straps  will  be 
^.?pplr.g'  aoout  his  feet,  as  he  walks  the  streets  or  is 
dancing.  Besides,  it  is  impossible  to  suit  so  large  a 
buckle  to  the  foot— it  must  be  painful — and  it  is  amus- 
ing enough  to  hear  a  beau  damning  his  buckles  forgiv» 
ing  him  uneasiness;  that  is,   damning  fashion. 

The  best  proportioned  shoe  will  always  keep  upon 
the  foot,  and  the  best  proportioned  buckle  will  always 
sit  easyo  Trite  taste  never  deviates  from  these  propor- 
tions. 

Americans  could  hardly  run  into  absurdities  of  these 
kinds,  were  they  to  consult  their  own  tavSte  or  interest. 
It  is  the  authority  of  foreign  manners  which  keeps  us 
in  subjection,  and  gives  a  kind  of  sanction  to  follies, 
which  are  pardonable  in  Europe,  but  inexcusable  in 
America. 

TITUS  BLUNTc 


28  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

mencement  of  tlie  female  fashions  alluded  to.  thro* 
the  instrumentality  of  which, 

< 'Those  charms  ulas!  that  virtue  bids  them  Screen, 
By  every   wanton  libertine  are  seen.*' 

Formerly  the  only  criterion  wlierehy  we  could 
discriminate  a  virtuous  from  a  lewd  woman,  was 
by  their  apparel;  but  now  that  criterion  is  almost 
banished  to  oblivion:  indeed,  many  virtuous,  and 
in  other  respects,  reputable  ladies,  dress  more 
indecent  than  even  tlie  vilest  prostitutes.  Their 
appearances  are  such  as  not  only  to  entice,  but 
almost  to  force  the  male  of  ardent  passions  to  acts 
of  violence,'^  as  well  as  the  aits  of  seduction. 
And  our  wonder  will  v anish  when  we  remember, 
that  **sti*ong  temptation  witli  the  best  prevail.'' 
What  temptation,  then  can  be  more  invincible  to 
a  certain  description  of  men,  than  a  beautiful 
woman  dressed  with  =^=)^^^^;  but  1  must  cease  de« 
lineating  even  the  outlines  of  the  fascinating  sight. 
It  would  be  unpardonable  indelicacy  in  me  to 
paiiit  what  priideTice  must  ctmreal^  or  to  depic- 
ture one  half  of  the  obscenity  of  female  fashions: 
but  the  reader  will  himself  save  me  the  trouble 
by  anticipating  the  sights  which  he  sees  daily  ex- 
hibited: or,  let  liim  take  a  summer's  evening 
walk  in  some  of  oui*  towns  and  cities;  and  he 
will  see  displayed  in  magnitude  what  I  dare  not 
even  depict  in  miniature. 

There  is  nothing  in  nature  more  capricious, 
contagious,  and.  at  the  same  time,  contamina- 
ting, than  fashion;  hence,  appearances  and  per- 
sonages, which  are  now  beheld  with  approbation 
and  complacency,  would,  twenty  years  ago,  have 
been  seen  with  shame,  disgust  anil  execration: 
and  hence,  mankind,  in  the  different  ages  of  the 
world  have  practised  the  most  unnatural  and  dia^ 


VINDICATED.  Sl^ 

bolical  evils  and  vices,  till  they  became  both  fa- 
miliar and  fashionable.  To  demonstrate  the  au- 
thenticity of  our  assertions,  we  might  adduce  a 
number  of  examples.  The  Grecians,  the  most 
refined  and  learned  nation  of  antiquity,  were  so 
blinded  by  custom,  as  to  constitute  one  thousand 
priestesses  for  one  temple  in  th^  city  of  Corinth, 
dedicated  to  Venus,  who  made  prostitution  a  part 
of  their  devotion  to  that  uniiallowed  goddess* 
For  the  honor  of  human  nature,  we  will  not  meit- 
tion  the  multitiides  of  human  victims  sacrificed  to 
the  heathen  gods;  all  of  which  was  considered 
laudable  by  the  unenlightened  orientals,  in  ma- 
ny parts  of  the  world,  at  the  present  period j, 
there  are  ridiculous  customs  established,  which 
habit  renders  familiar,  and  which  we  would  con* 
sider  as  degrading  to  the  brutal,  much  more  to 
the  human  creation.  There  are,  and  have  been 
certain  customs  and  fashions  which  regard  things 
of  pureindiiference:  and  though  tbey  may  appear 
ridiculous,  they  are  not  injurious  to  society:  tho' 
they  may  excite  our  contempt  they  should  not  our 
reproach.  But  on  the  other  hand,  there  are  fash- 
ions that  are  of  intrinsic  moment,  not  only  as  it 
respects  their  prese^it  effects,  but  future  tenden- 
cy. We  will  ail  agree,  that  to  bring  up  the  ris- 
ing generation  in  the  path  of  virtue*  is  an  indis- 
pensable and  important  duty;  for,  on  the  virtue 
of  our  cliildren,  the  prosperity,  nay,  the  very 
existence  of  society  depends.  It  will,  of  course> 
appear,  that  whatever  precept  or  example  is  in- 
culcated or  exhibited  in  the  present  age  to  our 
youth,  will  have  a  deleterious  or  salutary  tenden- 
cy, according  to  its  merits  or  demerits  in  the 
subvsequent  generation.  We  need  not  incujirc  the 
effects  which  modern  fashions  hive  ovi  our  chil- 
dren's minds:  and  indeed,  it  will  be  so  till  the 

3^ 


so  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

means  are  stopped,  and  then  the  effects  will  con-» 
seqiiently  cease.  We  see  female  children  mimic 
the  fashion;  and  before  nature  supplies  them  with 
real,  they  exhibit,  as  substitutes,  in  the  usual 
form,  artificial  breasts. 

<«Tliey  first  mimic  fashions,   only  armM  with  smiles. 
Then  fall  all  ruined  by  seduction's  wiles." 

While  their  infatuated  parents  see  them  go, 
nay,  sometimes  lead  them  into  the  jaws  of  des- 
truction, and  virtually  tell  the  libertine  to  tempt 
them,  how  many  innocent  girls  have  been  utterly 
ruined  through  the  neglect  of  their  parents,  who 
are  insensible  of  the  obligations  laid  upon  them 
hy  the  God  of  nature,  till,  perhaps,  it  is  too  late 
to  remedy  the  evil!  Oh!  how  will  it  augment 
their  horror  of  eternity,  when  they  find  that  their 
jieglect  and  imprudence  were  the  radical  cause  of 
the  overthrow  and  infelicity  of  their  offspring  in 
time  and  in  eternity. 

Many  complain  of  disobedient  children;  but 
who  are  to  blame  for  it?  L^ndoubtcdly  the  parents 
themselves;  for  children,  may  be  taught  almost 
anything,  if  they  are  begun  with  in  time.  <;They 
are  imitative  animals.^^  They  are,  or  will  be,  in 
3tniniature,  what  their  parents  or  guardians  are 
in  magnitude.  They  will,  at  least,  endeavor  to 
imitate  them  in  all  they  do:  hence,  instruction 
]by  example  is  more  efiicacious  than  precept;  but 
when  both  are  united,  the  most  salutary  effects 
ensue.  With  my  mind's  eye,  I  view  the  fashion- 
able mother  at  her  toilet,  with  all  the  apparatus 
connected  with  it,  particularly  the  looking-glass 
before  her  face.  While  she  is  exerting  all  her  in- 
genuity to  beautify  her  person,  and  to  exhibit 
tier  charms  in  the  most  advantageous  iflanner, 


VINDICATED-  31 

ihe  daughters,    both  young  and  old,  recognize 
all  her  movements,    surround  her  toilet,  mimic 
her  pride,  and  become  adepts  at  the  business,  be- 
fore they  arrive  even  at  the  years  of  accountabili- 
ty.    We  must  cease  drawing  this  baneful  picture, 
and  investigating  the  secret  i'ecesses  of  female 
vanity.     Were  I  to  draw  the  picture  at  full  length, 
and  say  all  that  might  be  said  on  the  subject,  Sa- 
tan himself  could   scarce  refrain  from  blushing; 
Heaven  would  drop  a  tear;  and  hell  would  groan 
and  reverberate  the  fatal  effects  of  such  injudici- 
ous, vain,   and  cruel  conduct.     Is  this  the  way  to 
bring  up  the  most  amiable  part  of  God's  crea- 
tion? Is  it,  or  can  it  be,  the  v/ill  of  the  Eternal, 
that  parents  should  spend  their  time  in  teaching 
their  children  bov</  to  decorate  their  persons  lika 
butterflies?  Has  God  intruste  Ifan  immortal  spirit, 
created  for  high  beatitude,   to  your  care,   O  pa- 
rents! in  order  to  have  it  taught  how  to  offer  sa- 
crifice  at  the  shrine  of  vanity?  how  to  prostitute 
its  noble  qualifications  on  the  altar  of  pride  and 
self-consequence?    how  to  obey  the  suggestions 
and  mandates  of  Satan?  how  to  hecome  slaves  to 
idleness,  the  fashions,  and  fopperies  of  the  age? 
Your  own  common  seuse,  your  own  consciences 
will  answer  in  the  negative,  and  will  testify  that 
the  very  reverse  of  what  you  now  do  is  your  duty 
as  rational  beings:  yon  shouid,  both  by  precept 
and  example,  endeavor   with  indeMigabic  assi- 
duity to  improve  the  intellectual  and  moral  facul- 
ties of  your  offspring.     By  this  means,   you  will 
lay  the  foundation  of  a  life  of  happiness  and  utili* 
ty;  but  by  a  contrary  line  of  conduct,  you  will 
facilitvite  their  ruin;  and,   I  believe,  their  blood 
will  be  required  at  your  hands  by  the  impartial 
Judge  and  Sovereign  of  (he  skies.     If  Wi%  for  a 
?arc)ment,  reflect  on  the  shortness  of  time,  tho  oer* 


34  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

anticipates  the  afflictions  and  dismay  which  his 
lawless  crimes  produce,  iti  thchosoms  of  virtuous 
retirement.  He  thinks  little  about  tlie  tears  he 
will  cause  to  flow,  and  the  anguish  and  despair  he 
will  create .  Not  unlike  the  spider  which  spreads 
his  fallacious  snare,  and  w^atches  with  anxious  so- 
licitude the  moment  the  unconscious  fly  approach- 
es it,  when  he  rushes  on  his  innocent  prey,  w  hich 
struggles  to  gain  its  liberty  and  life,  but,  alas! 
in  vain;  and  if  it  should  extricate  itself,  it  is  so 
debilitated  and  wounded,  that  it  never  recovers 
strength,  but  lingers  life  in  perfect  misery.  Thus 
these  pests  of  society  lay  wait  to  entangle  and 
destroy  innocent  females,  who  have  no  friends  to 
defend  them,  and  no  relatives  to  redress  their 
wrongs.  If  a  solitary  gleam  of  pity  flushes  across 
his  iron  mind,  it  is  instantly  effaced  by  the  more 
potent  call  of  lawless  passion.  If  the  principles 
of  religion  and  moral  rectitude  recur  to  his  me- 
mory, they  are  rejected  as  the  offspring  of  fana- 
ticism, that  do  not  Uelong  to  the  character  of  a 
gentleman.  He  thinfes  he  may  enjoy  the  licenfte 
w  hich  custom  proffers  and  human  laws  do  not  pro- 
hibit. As  for  God  and  his  laws,  sucb  characters 
pay  very  little  regard  to  them.  Since  then  tempta- 
tions and  snares  stand  thick  through  all  the 
ground,  the  syren's  voice  is  heard  on  ev^ery  side, 
to  lead  the  rising  generation  tp  ruin,  should  not 
parents,  therefore,  be  perseveringly  solicitous  to 
fortify  the  minds  of  their  children  against  the  ev- 
il day,  when  they  may  be  exposed  to  all  the  force 
of  temptation  from  Satan  and  wicked  men,  when 
they  are  laid  in  their  graves,  and  can  no  longer 
protect  and  defend  them?  Surely  they  should. 
But,  alas!  how  contrary  do  many  parents  act  to 
this  line  of  conduct!  They  not  only  suffer  their 
female  progeny  to  go  unreproved  into  the  very 


VINDICATED.  S5 

javrs  of  destruction,  but  even  fsucilitate  their  ruin 
tlieniiselves.  Little  do  they  think,  that  they  them- 
selves will  have  to  ansMer  to  God  for  the  evils 
resulting  to  the  rising  generation  from  their  neg- 
ligence; for,  surely,  cluldren  that  are  formally 
devoted,  by  their  irifatuated  pr.renta,  to  be  the 
slaves  of  fashion  and  idleness,  will,  of  course, 
become,  not  the  ornaments,  but  the  pests  of  soci- 
ety. A  folio  A'olume  would  not  contain  what 
miglit  be  said^  in  displaying  modern  fashions, 
and  their  deleterious  tendencies.  And  the  mis- 
fortune is,  that  many  parents  encourage  their 
children  to  become  tliQ  votaries  of  fashion,  long 
before  they  arrive  at  years  of  maturity.  You 
may  see  little  miss  Amelia  mimicking  the  fash- 
ions, with  all  the  affected  airs  of  a  coquette,  be- 
fore she  hath  seen  her  twelfth  year;  and  little 
master  Tommy,  at  the  same  age,  w  ith  his  pan- 
taloons up  to  his  chin,  his  waistcoat  about  six 
inches  long,  his  half  boots  with  tas:i  Is,  a  watch 
in  his  fob,  a  club  under  his  arm,  and  a  segar  in 
his  liiouth,  strutting  along  with  his  arms  a-kiai- 
bo,  with  all  the  self-consequence  of  a  nabob. 
Can  it  be  possible,  that  such  parents  ever  recol 
iect  for  what  purpose  man  was  created.  I  repeat 
the  sentiment,  and  it  cannot  be  too  often  repeat 
ed,  while  parents  are  so  thoughtless,  for  what 
end  God  intrusted  them  with  the  care  of  children, 
I  should  have  said  immortal  spirits,  capable  of 
high  beatitude.  Was  it  that  they  should  consid- 
er them  as  anim^al  machines,  and  forsooth  learn 
them  to  dance  and  sing,  and  spend  their  precious 
time  in  pursuit  of  vanity  and  sensual  gratifica- 
tion, and  to  prostitute  their  talents  to  the  most 
unworthy  purposes;  in  short,  their  lives  in  ih-: 
iier*vice,  not  of  their  frienr],  but  of  their  enemy 
jfiot  of  their  Heavenly  Father,  but  of  Satau. 


3G  FExMALE    CIIARACTER 

I  smile  to  myself  when  I  take  a  retrospective 
view  of  the  routine,  of  the  formalities  and  ceremo- 
nies, through  which  the  children  of  those  called 
the  higher  class  pass,  while  attaining,  and  pri- 
or to  their  being  metamorphosed  to  what  are  call- 
ed ladies  and  gentlemen;  hut  that  smile  is  chang- 
ed to  a  frown  of  indignation,  when  I  recollect 
the  dreadful  consequences  resnlting  to  the  uncon- 
scious innocents,  who  are  prematurely  contamin- 
ated with  pride  and  vanity;  and  who  become,  as 
it  were  mechanically,  or  by  instinct,  the  devo- 
ted victims  of  concupiscence,  and  sensuality,  cr, 
to  what  leads  directly  to  these  evils,  namely, 
fas] » ion. 

When  I  recollect  these  gigantic  evils,  for  my 
inind  unhidden  still  recurs  to  the  same  topic,  dis- 
gusted with  the  baneful  retrospect,  and  alarmed 
for  the  consequences,  J  can  only  lament  the  infa- 
tuation and  degradation  of  my  unhappy  fellow- 
travellers  to  t!ic  tomb,  who  are  one  (hiy  arrayed 
in  all  the])ompand  pageantry  of  fashion,  and  the 
next  day  wrapped  in  tlieir  winding-sheets;  one 
day,  blooming  with  healtli  and  beauty,  and  burst- 
^!'p;  with  ])ride;  and  the  next  inanimate  clay;  one 
clay,  with  all  tlie  affectation  of  pedants,  the  co- 
quetry of  jilts,  tlic  formality  of  devotees,  and  the 
agility  of  play-actors,  skipping  through  the  ball- 
room; tlie  next,  sti*etchcd  out  on  the  cooling- 
hoard.  Like  the  beatiteous  iily,  waviiig  on  the 
/lewy  lawn,  displaying  its  snow  white  face,  danc- 
ing in  the  winds,  and  receiving  the  exhilarating 
sun-l}eams  in  full  effusions;  when  lo!  in  a  mo- 
nier.t,  the  atmosphere  is  clouded,  the  sun  shrouds 
his  golden  face,  the  storms  arise,  the  rain  des- 
cends in  deluges,  overloads  the  gay  plant,  till  it 
droops  and  kisses  the  ground;  when  the  rud- 
^yinds  invade   and  tear  up  by  the  roots,     it  \k 


VINDICATED.  37 

exteftded  on  the  lawn,  its  beauty  forcvcF  fled,,  anil 
mingles  with  th^dust. 

'Thus,  one  month,  the  proud  votary  of  fashion^ 
thinks  the  ground  scarcely  good  enough  for  her  to 
walk  upon;  next  month,  she  is  deposited  six  feet 
below  that  ground,  mouldering  to  dust,  and  tho 
food  of  worms.  But  when  we  extend  our  ideas  to 
the  in<Ielicacy,  indecency,  and  fatality  of  female 
fashion,  and  view  its  votaries,  one  day,  with  all 
the  enticing  wiles  of  Joseph's  beauteous,^  though 
incontinent  mistress,  and  w  ith  all  the  charms  of 
a  Helen,  exhibited  to  the  greatest  advantage,  in 
order  that  she  might  attract  the  eyes  and  pro- 
voke the  lust  of  the  degenerate,  and  thus  causa 
them  to  sin  against  the  Eternal;  I  say,  how  dread- 
ful is  the  thought,  yet  how  true,  that,  one  day, 
the  votary  of  fashion  is  thus  leading  the  unguaid- 
ed  into  the  devious  paths  of  folly;  and  the  next, 
she  is  arraigned  at  the  bar  of  God  to  answer  for 
the  concomitant  evils  resulting  from  such  impru- 
dent and  wicked  conduct,  of  which  nature  it  un- 
doubtedly is.  Indeed  I  am  bold  to  say,  that  some 
fashionable  females  would  be  less  fascinating, 
were  they  to  go  altogether  naked:  for  instance, 
a  person  may  display  in  part  an  object,  whicli 
will  be  truly  captivating  by  exhibiting  the  most 
attracting  part  to  view;  and  screening  the  rest 
as  still  more  delightful;  whereby  the  beholder  is 
stimulated,  with  tenfold  solicitude,  to  recognize 
that  which  is  screened,  his  fancy  depicting  it  in 
imaginary  colors,  as  possessed  with  intrinsic  ex- 
cellencies, which,  were  he  to  b<  hold  in  its  native 
colors,  he  would  be  quickly  undeceived.  Indeed^ 
some  ladies  carry  fashions  to  such  an  extreme,  a^ 

^GenesiSf  39  Chap. 


S8  FEMALE  GHARACTER 

to  be  but  one  degree  above  nakedness.  I  have 
5nyself  seen— But  here  let  me  stop.  Decency^ 
forbids  me  to  depict  what  some  expose,  who  per- 
haps would  be  offended  to  be  called  immodest. 

^fTheiv  robes  so  fashion'd,   that  degenerate  men 

May  fancy  aU  the  wondrous  charms  within! 

And  thus  each  dame,   all  beautified  by  art. 

Attracts  the  wanton  eye,   the  unhallow'd  heart; 

Those  charms,   alts!  that  virtue  bids  them  screen; 

Hy  every  lawless  libertine  are  seen: 

This  makes  seduction  seem  both  fine  and  gavy 

While  weeping"  virtue  walks  disrob'd  away. 

Here  all  our  guilt,    and  all  our  sorrows  lie. 

Hence  youths  and  maids  to  certain  ruin  fly, 

By  nature  man's  deprav'd;  this  makes  him  worse* 

Tmpels  to  guilt  that  proves  an  endless  curse; 

They  fix  their  eyes  upon  each  swelling  breast. 

The  vices  reigning  will  declare  the  rest. 

Oh!  what's  th'  enchanting  eye,  the  ruddy  face; 

-'Beauty  unchaste,    is  beauty  in  d  sgrace;*' 

And  yet  in  them  is  every  art  and  charm. 

To  win  the  wisest,  and  the  coldest  warm: 


*I  hope  the  reader  will  excuse  the  indelicacy  of  some 
expressions  used    in  this  work,      i  am  willing  to  apolo- 

;-ze  for  the  same:  but  1  think,  in  point  of  justice,  the 
-notaries  of  fashion  should  first  make  an  apology  to  the 
public  for  giving  the  cause,  they  being,  unquestiona- 
bly, under  more  cogent  obligations  so  to  do,  than  I 
am;  for  I  scarcely  exhibit  in  miniature,  what  they  free- 
jy  display  in  magnitude.  Indeed,  it  gives  me  pain  to 
be  so  pointed  in  my  animadversions,  but  It  is  indispen- 
sably necessary:  for,  without  this,  my  writing  on  the 
4JLiSject  will  be  in  vain.  When  licentious  fashions  oi* 
practices  become  habitual,  there  is  no  possible  mean?, 
of  exhibiting  their   deformity,   but  by  painting  them 

-'ic  most  prominent  jnann^r^  and  lively  colors. 


VINDICATED.  i9 

Fond  love,  the  gentle  vow,    the  gay  desire. 

The  kind  deceit,   and  still  reviving  fire; 

Silence  that  speaks  witli  eloquence  of  e}  es, 

That  captivate  the  good,   the  great,  the  wise., 

Languor  that  fascinates,   all  conq*ring  charms, 

That  tempts  the  sage,   and  e'en  the  stoic  warms 

Yet,    0h!  the  pride,   the  glory  of  our  race, 

For  want  of  prudence,   is  tlie  world's  disgrace; 

Guilt,   which  in  ages  past  in  darkness  lay. 

Is  now  the  pride  and  order  of  the  day. 

But  this  degen'racy  is  big  with  woe. 

To  social  order  a  destructive  foe^ 

The  race  of  mankind  are  by  nature  frail, 

And  strong  temptations  with  the  best  prevail, 

Th'  enticing  ladies  who  their  charms  expose^ 

At  once  ensnare,   and  are  ensnared  by  foes; 

Each  am'rous  fop  with  greedy  eyes  surveys 

Their  charms  exposed,   and  covets  still  to  gaze; 

This  makes  the  husband  soon  forget  his  spouse^ 

For  man  is  false  nor  recollects  his  vows; 

With  wild  inconstancy  for  all  he  burns. 

Each  shameless  miss  subdues  his  heart  by  turns; 

He  views  each  true  or  artificial  charm. 

These  fatal  sights  his  sleeping  passions  warm: 

Seduction  is  his  last  resource — hence  woe. 

Disgrace,   and  shame  overwhelm  th'  ensnaring  foe^, 

And  hence.   Oh!  hence,   such  num'rous  rakes  we  see^ 

And  idle  women,  plung'd  in  misery: 

Hence  misses  who  have  scarce  twelve  winters  seen. 

Become  the  victims  ofdegen'rate  men. 

So  lost  from  shepherd,   and  its  mourning  dam, 

Through  some  lone  desert  roves  a  struggling  lamb. 

No  danger  fears,  but  as  she  idly  strays, 

Round  every  bush  the  heedless  wanton  plays. 

Till  raging  wolves  the  beauteous  toy  surround. 

Or  tigers  slay  her  on  the  crimson  ground; 

Then  from  her  guiltless  heart  the  purple  flows 

A  precious  morsel  for  the  hungry  foes. 

^j  dire  exampld^ruin'd,  thus  wretched  liQfy 


40  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Many  a  youthful  dame  with  streaming  eyesj 
No  more  their  lips  like  dewy  roses  glow. 
Their  weary  eyes  no  peaceful  slumbers  know 
But  left  to  strike  their  pensive  breasts  in  vain 
And  curse  the  authors  of  their  lasting  pain. 


VINDICATED  4i 


CHAPTER  n. 

Miscellaneous  and  desultory  strictures,  intended  to  de-^ 
monstrate  the  authenticity  of  the  antecedent  arg-u- 
ments,  and  respectfully  submitted  to  the  candid  con- 
sideration of  parents  generally. 


I  Have,  in  the  preceding  chapter,  delirteated 
a  few  desultory  and  spontaneous  thoughts  on  fash- 
ion. Refinement  in  composition,  or  elegance  in 
arrangement,  has  been  no  part  of  my  object  and 
design,  which  are  simply  to  deliver  my  senti- 
ments unadorned  and  unadulterated,  descending 
to  particulars  when  necessary,  and  animadvert- 
ing on  the  most  popular  vices,  when  introduced 
on  the  carpet.  My  primary  object  is  to  be  use- 
ful, without  paying  the  least  regard  to  the  cri- 
tic's malicious  sneers,  the  debauchee's  vindictive 
frown,  or  the  fashionable  dame's  consequential 
declamations.  The  adulation  of  perishing  mor- 
tals, I  do  not  solicit,  nor  deprecate  their  cen- 
sures; for,  though  I  love  all  men,  I  fear  no  man^, 
being  perfectly  independent  in  this  respect. 

A  large  field  for  contemplation  presents  to  my 
Tiew  a  train  of  interesting  common-place  thoughts^ 
connected  with  my  subject,  which  are  so  natural, 
and  at  the  same  time  so  reasonable,  that  one  would 
suppose  it  altogether  superfluous  to  suggest  them, 
but  if  we  may  judge  the  people  by  their  relative 
conduct,  we  must  co  ne  to  this  conclusion,  that 
if  they  are  apprised  of  these  thoughts,  and  well 
iaformed  respecting  the  subject  matter  of  om-  in- 


42  PEMAI^E  CHARAGTER 

vestigation,  they  have  a  queer  way  of  showing 
their  information.     For  instance,  can  we,  for  a 
moment,  suppose,  on  the  most  superficial  view  of 
the  manner  in  which  many  parents  bring  up  their 
children,  that  they  are  convinced,  when  the  love 
of  unwarrantable  pleasures,  imprudent  compan- 
ions, fashionable  appendages,  however  indecent, 
are  allowed  to  attract  the  attention,  engross  the 
affections,  and  envelop  the  practices  of  children, 
their  degradation,  contamination,  and,  perhaps, 
even  destruction,  approaches  with  long  and  stea- 
dy strides.     Surely,   we  cannot  believe  that  they 
are  convinced  of  this  truth,  though  it  is  as  plain 
to  behold  as  the  beams  of  the  sun  in  an  unclouded 
atmosphere.     We  all  know,  that  intemperance, 
by  enervating  the  mind  and  debilitating  tke  body, 
produces  a  stat^  of  wretchedness,  while  temper- 
ance has  the  contrary  effect;  and  even  imprudence 
in  dress,  and  a  deleterious  obsequiousness  to  in- 
judicious   as   well   as    indecent    fashions,    have 
brought  many  a  young  w  oman,  in  the  meridian  of 
youth,  to  a  premature  death,  by  producing  the 
most  destructive  disorders;  while,  on  the  contra- 
ry, the  prudent,  judicious  female,  by  pot  listen- 
ing to  the  solicitations  of  wayward  fancy,  and  by 
refusing  to  expose  her  constitutipn  for  the  gratifi- 
cation of  her  vanity,  and  in  obedience  to  the  ca- 
pricious mandates  of  fashion,  lives  to  become  an 
useful  and  ornamental  member  of  civil  society, 
the  virtuous  wife  of  a  reputable  husband,  the  pru- 
dent mother  of  a  happy,  as  well   as  numerous 
progeny;  and  though  her  personal  charms  may 
not  be  equal  toothers,  yet  her  virtue  more  than 
doubly  compensates  for  it;  for  virtue,    like  the 
shining  gold,  or  glistening  jewel,  the  more  it  is 
used,  the  more  resplendent  it  appears,  and  a  moi^e 
brilliant  radiance  it  actjuires.    Thus,  the  sun,  in 


VINDICATED.  4s 

Ills  western  declination,  darts  his  horizontal 
beams  less  glittering,  but  more  captivating,  than 
in  his  meridian  glory,  when  majestically  grand 
he  displays  at  once  his  magnitude  and  beauty. 
This  similitude  illustrates  the  characteristic  of 
an  amiable  woman,  possessed  with  personal 
charms  in  mediocrity,  without  affectation,  but 
blessed  with  sentimental  charms  in  superabun- 
dance without  pedantry.  But,  to  what  shall  we 
liken  .the  affected  coquette,  whose  very  physiog- 
nomy expresses  to  every  beholder  tlie  quintessence 
of  vanity  and  self  consequence.  Though  her  beau- 
ty transcended  that  of  the  sun  at  noon-day;  yet 
would  her  affectation  and  haughtiness  draw  a  veil 
over  it,  and  excite  contempt,  instead  of  admira- 
tion, like  the  sable  cloud,  that  big  with  showers^ 
shrouds  the  radiant  sun  in  solemn  sadness,  and 
causes  a  glooni  to  rest  even  upon  the  beauteous 
flower  garden. 

We  would  compare  such  a  one  (and  many  such 
there  are)  to  a  wolf  clothed  with  a  lamb^s  skin^ 
By  his  mimickry  and  affectation,  the  deception 
is  recognized,  and  he  receives  contempt  and  exe- 
cration. 

The  horse  is  a  beautiful  and  useful  animal,  and 
is  of  course  admired  and  esteemed.  The  leopard 
is  still  more  beautiful  to  behold,  yet  he  is  viewed 
with  horror,  and  avoided  with  dismay.  What  a 
pity  it  is,  that  the  proud  and  imperious  votaries 
of  fashion,  while  at  their  toilets,  or  strutting  a- 
long  the  streets,  will  not  ask  their  own  hearts 
these  solemn  quCvStions:  What  are  we?  Atoms  of 
creation,  particles  of  dust.  Where  are  we?  On 
this  terraqueous  ball,  spending  a  few  revolving 
moments,  as  probationary,  a:countable,  and  sen- 
sitive  beings,  on  whom  are  bestowed,  by  the  lib- 
eral h<indi  of  the  Architect  of  Nature,  transcend 


44  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

€ntly  cxeellfnt  and  ornamental  qualifications,  for 
the  express  purpose  of  promoting  the  glory^  and 
doing  the  will  of  the  Eternal  Creator,  to  whom 
we  must  account  for  ttie  expenditure  of  our  riches, 
talents  and  time ! ! 

W/ieti  w£  leave  this  earthly  ball,  what  will  6e* 
tome  of  our  immortal  parts?    We  shall  undoubted- 
ly be  arraigned  at  the  august  tribunal  of  the  Eter- 
iial;  there  to  receive,  from  the  impartial  Judge, 
rewards  or  punishments,   according  to  the  merit 
or  demerit  of  our  actions.     We  shall  then  ascer- 
tain^ that  our  probationary  state,    at  least  when 
compared  to  eternity,   is  Jike  a  dream,  or  a  flash 
of  lightning  in  the  atmosphere,  one  moment  seen, 
the  next   vanished  forever.     Is  it  then  right  or 
reasonable  for  us  to  spend  our  fleeting  moments  in 
gratifying   our  capricious  passions,   in  indulging 
our  unwarrantable  pleasures,  and  in  offering  in- 
cense at  the  shrine  of  vanity?     JVb.     As  we  are 
not  only  probationary,   but  social   and  immortal 
beings,  it  is  an  insult  to  common  sense,  a  per- 
version of  our  nature,   and  a  mortal  sin  against 
the  eternal  Author  and  supporter  of  concord  and 
peace,  to  spend  our  time  in  idleness  and  dissipa- 
tion,  not  only  neglecting  to  do  good,  but  in  do- 
ing much  evil,  prostituting  our  persons,  time, 
riches,  and  talents  to  the  most  unworthy  purpo- 
ses.    These  are  serious  considerations;  and  how- 
ever the  volatile  and  gay  may  flirt  and  sneer  at 
them,  the  day  is  fast  approaching  when  sickness 
will  seize,  and  medicine  fail  them.     Then  they 
will  anticipate  all  the  solemnities  of  a  dying  hour,, 
and  feel,  as  well  as  know,  that  Jehovah  is  inexo- 
rable in  justice,  and  irrevocable  in  his  decrees, 
as  they  respect  the  proud  and  impenitent;  and,  at 
the  same  time,  great  in  goodness  to  the  humble 
and  pious;  upon  whom  he  showers  ia  copious  a- 


45 


tlNDICATEB. 


bundance  liis  divine  blessings  and  benedictions 
He  is  their  source  of  consolation  under  trouble. 
He  fortifies  their  minds  in  temptations;  and,  when 
about  to  take  a  long  and  last  farewell  of  all  things 
here  below,  a  convoy  of  celestial  heralds  are  sent 
to  bear  the  happy  soul  exulting  and  triumphant 
on  their  golden  wings  up  to  the  palace  of  God  and 
his  angels. 

Swift,   and  more  swift  the  radiant  heralds  go, 
As  swift  as  lightning",    and  as  white  as  snow. 

Parents  should  always  remember,  that  for  eve« 
ty  child  the  Almighty  has  intrusted  to  their  charge, 
tie  has  assigned  a  portion  of  work  in  his  vineyard; 
for,  surely,  we  must  believe,  that  he  has  not, 
will  not,  and  cannot  create  an  immortal  spirit 
<vithout  having  some  glorious  end  in  view.  For 
«ny  own  part,  I  am  confident  in  the  opinion,  that 
fliere  is  not  an  individual  of  the  human  family 
(idiots  and  lunatics  excepted,)  who  has  not  one 
or  more  talents  imparted,  and  a  portion  of  salu- 
tary labor  appropriated  for  the  exercise  of  that 
talent  or  talents,  by  the  improvement  of  which 
lie  may,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  promote  the 
glory  of  God,  the  cause  of  virtue,  and  the  good 
of  mankind.  And  on  parents  the  important  task 
falls,  to  cultivate  the  intellectual  faculties  of  their 
children  at  an  early  age,  that  they  may  answer 
the  salutary  end  of  their  creation,  wlien  arrived 
at  the  years  of  accountability.  If  they  neglect 
this  part  of  their  duty  to  God  and  their  children, 
they  are  guilty  of  the  crimes  they  commit,  and  of 
the  good  the  neglect:  and  let  them  flatter  them- 
selves as  they  may,  they  will  have  to  answer  for 
the  same  to  the  God  of  Nature.  The  natural  con- 
sequences that  result  from  children'^  being  allow 


4G  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

ed  by  their  parents  or  guardians  to  remain  in  ig- 
norance and  disobedience,  are  the  contamination 
of  the  source  of  virtue,  the  perversion  of  theii 
natural  endowments,  and  the  surrendering  of  them 
to  the  influence  and  domination  of  the  most  dis- 
cordant passions  and  jarring  dispositions:  and 
when  these  are  allowed  to  extend  their  baneful 
influence,  the  w  hole  moral  character  is  poisoned, 
the  motives  to  laudable  actions  are  annihilated, 
and  disgrace,  guilt  and  misery,  are  accumulated; 
by  w  hich  means,  the  unconscious  children  of  in- 
judicious parents  are  too  often  precipitated  into  a 
labyrinth  of  premature  misery,  and,  perhaps,  fi- 
nal ruin.  Swallowed  in  the  vortex  of  immortali- 
ty before  the  principles  of  moral  rectitude  were 
inculcated  on  their  juvenile  minds,  before  the  su- 
per-excellence of  virtue  had  been  exhibited  to  their 
indiscriminate  view",  or  before  its  transcendent 
beauties  had  been  even  anticipated.  Their  un 
governable  passions  produce  a  train  of  evils. 
First,  intemperance  leads  the  van;  complicated 
disease  follows;  sloth,  pride,  poverty,  and  des 
pair  bring  up  the  rear,  and  precipitate  the  unhap 
py  beings  loaded  with  sins  of  the  deepest  dye,  and 
enveloped  with  sorrows  of  tenfold  magnitude,  in- 
to eternity,  cursing  forever  the  authors  of  their 
lasting  wretchedness.  But,  alas! — it  is  not  on- 
ly the  children  of  such  cruel  parents  that  are  pre- 
maturely contaminated  by  sentimental  or  practi- 
cal seduction,  but  even  those  of  prudent  and  vir- 
tuous people  when  first  setting  out  in  life,  while 
yet  strangers  to  the  syren^s  voice,  the  charming 
fiypocrite^s  solicitations;  when  every  unhallowed 
pleasure  entices,  and  every  new  object  exhibits 
an  air  of  novelty;  the  seducing  spirit  gains  the 
ascendancy;  virtue  retires  disrobed  and  in  tears; 
tranquillity  is  forever  banished;  irregular^  and 


VINDICATED.  4? 

-veil  criminal  desires  are  gratified,  being   first 
metamorphosed  to  venial  weakness;  habit  grows 
invincible;  guilt  grows  gigantic;  and  debauchery 
is  accounted  laudable,  till  death  stops  the  juven- 
ile wantons  in  their  mad  career,  and  levels  them 
with  the  clods  of  the  valley;  while  their  discon- 
solate parents  remain  uninipeached,  having  done 
their  duty  to  them  while  in  their  minority.     How 
often  has  it  happened,  that  young  persons   have 
begun  the  world  with  blooming  prospects  and  vir- 
tuous dispositions;  but,  alas!  by  associating  witli 
wicked  companions,   and  by  indulging  in  unwar 
rantable  propensities,    their  blooming  prospects 
are  blasted  in  the  bud,  like  the  opening  flower 
scorched  by  the  sun,  or  blasted  by  the  impetuous 
whirlwind;  and  though  they  bid  fair  to  be  tin 
support,  yet  they  eventually  prove  to  be  the  pests 
of  civil  society.     Thus,  the  sun  rises  majestically 
grand,  tips  the  blue  mountains  with  a  golden  I'ay^ 
exhilarates  the  plain,  gilds  the  atmosphere  with 
orient  light,  and  promises  a  charming  day;  when, 
lo!  the  sable  curtains  of  the  sky  are  let  down,  the 
sun  is  vanished,  the   showers  descend,   and  con- 
clude the  weeping  day  witii  solemn  sadness.— 

Those  who  call  themselves  the  riclu  the  great^ 
and  the  lords  of  the  creation^  are  often  envied  by 
the  lower  class;  but,  alas!  their  embarrassing 
and  fleeting  situations  in  life  should  cohimand  our 
pity,  instead  of  exciting  our  envy.  Many  ar 
aching  head  reclines  upon  a  downy  pillow*  Ma- 
ny a  sorrowful  licart  is  conveyed  from  place  to 
place  in  a  gilded  chariot.  Many  a  volatile  out- 
side appearance  conceals  unutterable  wretched- 
ness within.  Riches  nurture  pride;  and  pride 
disorders  the  heart:  and  the  fountain  of  happi 
Hess  being  poisoned,  the  streams  are  consequent 
^y  affected.     Though  cvtvy  other  painful  scnsa. 


44  FEMALE   CHARACTER 

Hon  were  prolubited  from  disturbing  the  rich 
man's  mind,  yet  the  solemn  thought  of  the  ap- 
proach of  death,  with  all  his  ghastly  terrors,  to 
force  him  to  relinquish  his  splendid  possessions 
in  favor  of  others,  to  exchange  his  pompous  pal- 
ace for  a  loathsome  grave,  are  enough  to  blast  all 
his  pleasures,  to  imbitter  all  his  sweets,  and  to 
annihilate  his  hopes  of  future  joy:  especially  wheir 
he  takes  a  retrospective  view  of  his  rare  virtues 
and  multiplied  crimes;  of  the  good  he  has  omitted 
to  do,  and  of  the  evils  he  has  done,  he  laments 
that  he  has  let  liis  golden  moments  pass  without 
improvement.  The  concomitants  that  attend  hii^ 
departure  from  the  paths  of  innocency  and  virtue, 
appear  to  his  wounded  mind,  as  the  spectre  of  a 
murdered  person  appears  in  the  midnight  hour  to 
the  assassin  while  slumbering  on  his  bed,  calling 
in  vain  for  the  comforts  of  peaceful  repose.  He 
curses  the  unhappy  moment  he  first  cast  his  eyes 
on  the  gardens  of  unhallowed  pleasure.  He  re- 
members with  what  timidity  and  trembling  he 
first  ventured  to  participate  the  lawless  revelling 
of  liis  jovial  companions,  still  casting  a  longing 
lingering  glance  on  the  forsaken  path  of  virtue, 
with  a  purpose  to  return  at  a  future  period;  but, 
alas!  one  enticing  snare  is  followed  by  another 
stiilmoreso,  and  the  same  with  licentious  acts, 
till  the  remembrance  of  his  former  virtue  is  oblit- 
erated from  his  mind,  and  even  a  relish  for  the 
happiness  of  innocence  and  integrity.  He  then 
becomes  an  easy  victim  of  dissipation,  is  entan- 
gled in  business,  immersed  in  luxury,  filled  with 
vanRy,  degraded  by  iniquity*  and  is  easily  whirl- 
ed down  the  vortex  of  sensuality  into  the  ocean 
of  complete  misery,  while  the  most  superficial 
glance  of  his  former  happy  days,  fills  him  with 
Sorror  and  regret.    Thus,  the  man  who  in  Ws 


VINDICATED,  49 

pleasure-boat  sails  down  the  river  Thames^  views 
^iritli  delight  the  bcautiriil  country  seats  and  their 
romantic  scenery^  the  blushing  parterres,  the 
scented  meads,  the  diversified  flower-gardens, 
tjie  lofty  trees  peeping  over  trees,  and  waving 
their  verdant  foliage;  but,  lo!  while  he  is  delight- 
ing himself  with  the  enchanting  sight,  a  sudden 
squall  of  wind,  descending  upon  his  little  boat, 
breaks  the  mast,  and  bears  the  sail  away  The 
rising  gale  still  blows  the  boat  down  the  river, 
the  man  not  being  able  to  manage  her,  the  sail 
being  lost,  she  is  at  length  ushered  into  the  foam- 
ing ocean,  where  the  mountain  waves  threaten 
to  make  the  man's  pleasure-boat  his  coffin.  Hq 
laments  his  folly  for  coming  so  far  from  home 
mthout  making  any  preparation  for  incidental 
dangers.  He  blames  his  own  neglect  for  the  di- 
lemma in  which  he  finds  himself;  and  each  wave 
he  views  augments  his  horror,  while  he  sees,  or 
thinks  he  sees,  grim  death  sit  frowning  on  each 
wave.  He  casts  many  a  long  look  on  the  forsa- 
ken shore,  hoping  to  gain  it;  but  he  hopes  in 
vain. 

Indeed,  it  often  Iiappens,  that  the  accumula- 
tion of  Vvcalth  completely  metamorphoses  many 
persons  from  what  they  were  in  a  state  of  medio- 
crity. From  being  the  votaries  of  virtue,  they 
become  the  votaries  of  vanity.  From  offering 
the  grateful  tribute  of  thanksgiving  at  the  altar  of 
God,  they  offer  the  sacrifice  of  adulation  at  the 
shrine  of  avarice.  The  case  of  Hazael  presents 
itself  to  illustrate  my  arguments.  When  the 
prophet  Elisha  told  him  of  the  barbarous  cruel- 


*Thames,    a  large  navigable  river  in  England,  gntbe 
orth  side  of  which  London  is  situated. 


50  FEMALE  CIIARAGTER 

lies  lie  would  commit,  he  was  petrified  with  lior-» 
ror,  ahhori'cd  Use  very  idea  of  such  barbarity, 
jind  e.xclaimed  in  the  language  of  detestation: 
*'Biit  ivhaU  is  thy  servant  a  dog.  that  he  should 
ih  this  great  thing?^^  But,  alas!  following  years 
demonsti  ated  the  truth  of  the  prophet's  words. 
When  Jie  became  king  of  Syria,  ambition  and 
rjTiclly  took  possession  of  his  rational  faculties; 
lie  vras  so  fur  changed,  as  to  take  a  dire  deliglit 
\n  perpetrating  wliat  he  before  shuddered  to  an- 
Ucipate.  He  became  a  monster  in  the  shape  of  a 
nan:  who^-e  delight  was  violence  and  murder;  for 
•t  appears,  he  suiote  the  children  of  Israel  in  alt 
•heir  coasts,  and  oppressed  them  during  all  the 
days  of  king  Jehoahaz.  I  might  also  mention 
ilexander  the  gi*eat,  whose  history  tends  to  de- 
ujoKstrate  the  authenticity  of  my  arguments.  In 
his  yoTith,  lie  V.  as  ti'uly  a  person  of  an  amiable 
mind;  and  even  on  the  commencement  of  liis  vic- 
torious career  as  a  general,  he  was  remarkable 
Tor  his  modei-ation  aiul  virtue;  an  instance  of 
whic)},  F  would  beg  leave  to  relate,  vvhich  does 
liim  irreat  lionor,  and  deserves  to  be  had  in  dci* 
petual  remembrance. 

^^The  evening  alier  an  engagement  with  the 

Persians,  Alexander  invited  his  cliief  officers  to  a 

least,     at   which    he  himself  presided,   notwith- 

tandinglic  had  been  wounded  that  day  in  battle. 

'Hie  festivity,  howevei%  had  scarce  begun, 
v;\\Qw  they  were  interrupted  by  sad  lamentations 
from  a  neighboring  tent,  which  at  iirst  they  con- 
sidej'ed  as  a  fresh  alarm,  but  the^/  were  soon 
taught  that  it  came  from  the  tent  in  wliich  tlie 
"wiie  aiid  mother  of  Darius  were  kept,  wlio  were 
expressing  their  sorrow  for  the  supposed  death  of 
Oarius.  An  eunuch,  who  had  seen  his  cloak  in 
ihn  ha]]ds  of  a  soldiei%  imaginiiig  he  was  kill^'^ 


MEDICATED. 

broiishl  tiicm  these  iliTJi.'Ifiil  tidings, 
however,   sent  oue  of  hig    officers  to   r.ndeceivc: 
tliem,   and  to   uiforui  tr.em  tliaV  the  < 
still  alive.     The  woiiien,  little  JLf-ed  tv.  i  -a-  ;..>j>v..r 
anrc  of  stranuiers,  unou  tl;c  arrival  of  the  Mace 
donian  soldier,  iraagiiting  he  wassent  to  puttnei; 
to  death,  threw   themselves   at  his  leet,  and  eu 
treated   hiiii   to  spare  them  a  little  while.     I'hey 
were  ready,  they  said,   to  die:  aJid   only  desired 
to  bury  Darius,   beQ)re  t'ley  should  sufu^r.     Th( 
soldier    assured   them,   that  the  monarch  whoir 
they  deplored,   was  still  living,   and  he  gave  S} 
dgambis  his  hand  to  raise  lier  from  the  ground. 

•*TIiC  next  day  Alexander,   after  visiting  the 
wounded,  caused  the  last  honors  to  be  paid  to  the 
dead  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  army,  drav*: 
up  in  the  most  spleiidid  order  of  battle.     He  treat 
€d  the  Persians  of  distinction  in  the  same  man 
ner,  and  permitted  Darius'  mother  to  bury  what 
€ver  person  sh.e  pleased  according  to  the  custom- 
and  ceremonies  practised  in  her  country.     After 
this,    he  sertt  a  message  to  the  queens  to  inform 
them,  that  he  was   coming  to  pay  them  a  visit; 
and    accordingly,    comuianding  all  his  train  to 
withdraw,   he  entered  the  tent,  accompanied  only 
hy  Ilephaistion,   who  made  so  cautious  and  dis- 
creet  a  use  of  the  liberty  granted  hini;,  that  he 
seemed  to  take  it  not  so  much  out  of  inclinatioH, 
as  from  a  desire  to  obey  the  king,  who  would 
have  it  so.     They  were  of  the  same  age,  but  He 
phsestion  was  taller,  so  that  t!ie  queens  took  him 
first  for  the  king,  and  paid  him  their  respects  as 
such.     But  some  captive  eunuchs  shewing  them. 
Alexander,   Sysigambis  fell  prostrate  before  him, 
and  entreated    par^iun  for  her  mistake,  but  the 
king  raising  her  from  the  ground,  assured  her 
tbat  his  friend  was  also  another  Alexander;  anti 


5xJ  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

after  comforting  her  and  her  attendants,  took  the 
son  of  Dariuh  that  was  vet  hrt  a  child,  in  liis 
xirms.  The  infant,  without  discovering  the  least 
terror,  stretched  out  his  arms  to  the  conqueror, 
who  being  affected  by  its  confidence,  said  to  He- 
phrestion,  *0h!  that  Darius  liadsorne  share,  some 
portion  of  this  infant's  generosity.' — This  inter- 
Tiew  has  done  more  honor  to  Alexander's  charac- 
ter, than  all  the  rest  of  his  conquests:  the  gentle- 
ness of  liis  manners  to  the  suppliant  captives, 
his  chastity  and  continence,  when  he  had  the  pow- 
er to  enforce  obedience,  were  setting  an  example 
to  heroes,  whicli  it  has  been  the  pride  of  many 
since  to  imitate/' 

Yet,  alas!  notwithstanding  this  favorable  com 
menccment,  his  end  was  truly  wretched:  befor^^ 
^vhich  he  degenerated  from  his  antecedent  qualifi- 
cations through  tlie  influence  and  medium  of  un- 
exampled success;  so  that  he  was  considered  by 
the  surrounding  nations  as  the  scourge  of  God 
and  destroyer  of  the  human  ]*ace.  And  while  he 
enslaved  the  world,  he  was  himself  a  slave  to  in- 
temperance, by  which  lie  was  brought  to  an  un- 
timely grave,  i  might  adduce  a  large  number  oi 
examples  to  show  that  riclies  prove  a  curse  to 
thousands  by  feeding  their  imperious  vanity  and 
pride;  and,  at  the  same  time,  annihilating  their 
social  vit;tue  and  humility.  One  would  think  it 
impossible  for  people  to  be  hauglity  and  proud, 
Avhen  the  thoughts  of  death  and  the  grave  rush  in- 
to their  minds;  but,  alas!  they  suffer  not  the  in- 
teresting thoughts  to  rest  upon  their  vitiated 
hearts  till  the  die  is  cast,  and  they  feel,  as  well  as 
Ivnow,  that  the  Almighty  is  just  as  well  as  good, 
w  ise  as  well  as  merciful. 

Some  suppose  that  tlie  ricli  who  bask  in  the  sun 
ti'hine  of  prosperity,  arc  happy,  without  i^ni-ru' 


VINOICATKD.  55 

paiiug  any  degree  of  sorrow;  but,  let  them  know> 
that  the  ricli,  ia  common  with  the  poor,  have  their 
portion  of  human  woe  to  bear;  and  often  the  dis- 
appointments of  vice  are  greater  than  those  of 
virtue.  What  self-denial  that  religion  imposes, 
is  more  agonizing  than  the  predominant  influence 
of  envy,  revenge,  parsimony,  avarice,  and  a 
:train  of  evils  too  horrid  to  mention?  The  Eternal 
prohibits  his  children  from  nothing  but  what 
would  be  injurious  to  them.  Those  who  obey  his 
requirings,  enjoy  a  paradise  on  earth,  in  reflect- 
ing that  they,  with  a  sincere  heart,  endeavor  to 
do  his  will.  Thus,  in  the  midst  of  misfortune 
and  disappointment,  the  virtuous  are  crowned 
with  joy  and  peace,  while  the  vicious  are  tor- 
mented with  the  thoughts  of  their  present  guilt, 
and  the  prospect  of  their  future  misery.  And  let 
the  wicked  man  think  what  he  may,  he  can  nev- 
er get  to  heaven  without  repentance,  nor  escape 
the  notice  of  the  all-seeing  eye.  Though  he  should 
vault  into  the  sky,  precipitate  down  to  the  lower 
regions,  or  fly  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  tlie 
earth,  there  an  omnipotent  God  would  be  present 
to  punish  him. 

But  the  most  potent  argument  we  can  advance 
to  prove  the  validity  of  our  hypothesis,  and  the 
cogency  of  the  duty  of  parents  to  their  children 
respecting  their  intellectual  improvement,  is  the 
solemn  reflection  of  the  immateriality  of  the  soul. 
And  when  this  reflection  presents  itself  to  my 
mind,  I  can  scarcely  avoid  being  irritated  at  the 
murderous  folly  of  those  parents,  who  act  towards 
their  children,  as  if  they  were  animal  machines, 
not  immortal  spirits;  and  thus  lay  the  foundation 
of  their  present  and  future  misery.  Hence,  the 
<many  digressions  that  are  observable  in  this  per- 
forma,nge«     Jlowey^r;  I  am  not  writing  ^^  plea^ffe 


FEMALE    CIIAHiVGTER 

the  car^  but  to  profit  the  heart.  Truth  is,  I  con- 
reive,  most  resplendent  wljen  most  simplified;  and 
to  attempt  to  ganiisli  it  with  the  appeiulages  oC 
iiietaphysjcal  enidition,  in  order  to  enforce  and 
beautify  it,  is  like  painting  a  diamond  witli  a 
view  to  make  it  more  brilliant.  Sophistry,  not 
truth,  needs  these  appendages. 

1  conceive  it  to  be  the  duty  of  an  antlior,  \vho 
pyrites  for  the  good,  not  for  the  pi'aise  of  man,,  to 
make  his  readers  rellect,  not  laugh;  to  study  u- 
tility  more  than  elegance;  brc\ity  more  than  re- 
dun?' ance:  to  forego  prolixity  and  exhibit  variety, 
A  \vell-j)oised  sentimerit,  a  simpliried  argument, 
suj>ported  by  reason  and  couiinon  sense^  an  in- 
stantaneous exhibition  of  a  common  fact^  will 
have  a  better  tendency  to  convince  tlie  under- 
standing, inform  the  mind,  and  reform  the  heart, 
tlian  volumes  of  elegant,  rellned  but  futile  com- 
position. A  literary  work  possessed  of  energy, 
Tivacity  and  utility  can  only  be  useful  to  a  certain 
descri]}tion  of  persons. 

is  it  not  virtually  coiomitting  intellecttml  mas- 
sacre, when  parents  not  only  negject  to  impress 
on  the  juvenile  minds  of  tlseir  rn^geny  the  mild 
precepts  of  our  holy  religion,  but  suffer  tliem  to 
i-un  through  the  slip])ery  |M-ihs  of  youth  with  un- 
restraineil  passions.  Thus,  the  injudicious  farm- 
er su^ii^rs  his  colt  to  remain  in  the  woodlands  (in- 
steaii  of  raiding  and  nurturing  it  under  his  imme- 
diate inspection)  till  it  has  gained  its  native 
s  with    accumulated    fiercei^ess.      The 

o :.eing  pressed  by  his  wants,  no w^  pursues, 

endeavoring  to  recover  his  horse,  but  in  vain. 
The  ln>ise  i^- rer.dered  useless  to  him,  and  dan- 
gerous to  iht:  pulylic  thi'ough  his  neglect.  Thus, 
th'Uisam  s  of  cliiiisren  are  not  only  useless  to  their 
parents,  bat  bring  their  grey  hairs  with  sorrow 


ViNDICATEI).  55 

o  tlic  grave,  tliroug'h  tlieir  wildnesa  aiul  disobe- 
difMic(\  And  they  not  only  endanger  the  peace 
oi'  otliers  by  tlieir  blhrd  inipetnosity,  but  hurry 
themselves  headlong  into  excenses  which  termin- 
ate in  their  ruin. 

The  child  of  a  savage*  and  that  of  a  sage,  arc 
the  same  by  natin*c.  By  lettini^:  them  botli  re- 
main  uncultivated,  they  will  be  equally  wiJd, 
thougli  it  may  be  tlieir  fjuickncss  of  cultivation 
may  not  be  the  same  on  their  intellectual  improve- 
ment. There  is,  therefore,  no  part  of  parental 
iluty  more  important  than  bri*Uing  the  passions 
of  children  at  an  early  age:  and  that  parent, 
whether  rich  or  jioor,  noble  or  ignoble,  who  suc- 
ceeds in  breaking  his  child's  temper,  while  in  a 
state  of  minority,  has  purchased  the  most  invalu- 
able blessing  for  liim»   and  has  gained  the  highest 

ittainn^ent  peculiar  to  our  rational  nature. 

Wherever  we  turn  our  eyes,  we  see  objects  to 
demonstrate  this  speculative  reasoning.  In  one 
direction,  we  see  the  virtuous  happy  man  who  is 
master  of  his  passions,  sit  calm  in  tumults,  and 
amidst  contending  j)arties  and  busy  multitudes; 
while,  in  the  opposite  direction,  we  discover  the 
vicious  wretched  man  mastered  by  his  passions, 
led  from  one  extreine  to  another,  blasting  the  e?i- 
joyments  of  his  neighbors,  strewing  the  patfi  of 
life  with  thorns,  and  rendering  tlie  sacred  reces- 
ses of  domestic  tranquillity  a  vale  of  tears. 

Let  us  for  a  moment  cast  our  eyes  on  tlie  thea* 
tre  of  war,  and  ask  our  hearts  the  cause  of  ail 
such  havoc,  slaugiiter,  discord,  devastation,  and 
anarchy,  which  we  behold — While  individuals, 
families,  arm  for  war,  and,  on  the  most  trifling 
occasions,  rush  against  each  other  with  the  uiry 
of  roaring  liojis,  and  with  the  inipctuosity  of  ma- 
nlags,  malevolent  and  furious  to  spill  each  oth- 


56  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

^r's  blood,  the  answer  is  ready ♦  the  reason  is  oIj- 
vious,  to  wit,  PAssioiN !  unrestrained,  unhallow- 
ed passion.  And  it  is  not  the  present  age  only 
that  has  been  famous,  or  rather  infamous,  for 
the  depredations  of  sanguinary  warfare,  but  also 
former  generations  have  tinged  the  verdant  green 
with  crimson  red;  have  cast  libations  of  human 
blood  into  the  briny  deep;  have  raised  whole  he- 
eatombs  of  human  bodies,  as  trophies  in  honor 
of  the  goddess  of  victory.  And  when  we  descend 
ft'om  national  to  individual  suicide,  we  behold, 
with  an  equal  degree  of  horror,  the  tragical  ca- 
tastrophes resulting  from  domestic  and  individu- 
al discord:  here  we  see  revenge,  envy,  covetous- 
ness,  jealousy,  rage,  viith  unbridled  license: 
here,  the  outlawed  viUain  sends  the  glittering 
dirk  through  the  guiltless  body  of  the  inoffensive 
traveller;  robs  him  of  his  money,  while  his  blood 
is  yet  warm  on  the  reeking  blade*  There  th^ 
legal  villain,  on  account  of  some  trifling  misun- 
derstanding, calls  his  brother  into  the  field,  and 
sends  the  leaden  ball  through  his  body  with  im- 
punity, while  he  screens  himself  from  all  impu- 
tation under  the  august  canopy  of  public  patron- 
age or  popular  custom;  but  we  must  forbear  de- 
lineating even  the  outlines  of  the  dreadful  picture. 
However,  we  will  attempt  a  little  farther  to 
ihow^^  the  dissimilarity  betw^een  the  man  that  is 
a  slave  to  his  passions,  and  him  that  has  con- 
quered them.  By  painting  the  latter  character 
more  plainly,  we  may  recognize  the  infinite ^d- 


*The  most  effectual  method  to  demonstrate  the  de- 
formity of  vice,  and  beauty  of  virtue,  is,  by  contrast 
ing  them,  and  by  particularizing  the  dissimilairity.tit  f' 

Yov  of  virtue. 


VINDICATED.  5; 

vantages  of  a  virtuous  life.  The  consolatory  ef- 
fect of  virtue  on  tlie  human  mind,  will  not  admit 
©fa  shadow  of  douht,  much  less  of  dispute.  A 
thousand  volumes  would  not  contain  even  a  spe- 
cimen of  the  happiness  which  tliose  persons  enjoy 
who  are  the  possessors  of  social  virtue.  There 
is  one  sensation  of  celestial  origin  which  he  inher- 
its, if  he  ih  in  afliuent  circumstances;  and  that 
is,  the  opportunity  given  him  to  spread  benefac- 
tions, and  consequent  comforts  amongst  his  indi- 
gent  fellow-men;  and  thus  to  increase  his  own^ 
by  establishing  their  comforts.  He  rejoices  iu 
the  good  which  tliey  enjoy,  and  they  in  the  good 
vhich  he  bestows:  but  the  a])proving  voice  of  his 
conscience,  with  the  exhilarating  smiles  of  Heav- 
en which  he  anticipates,  exceeds  description. 
Those  heavenly  sensations  may  be  felt,  but  they 
never  can  be  expressed.  What  are  the  pleasures 
of  the  voluptuous,  of  the  epicure,  or  of  the  vota- 
ries of  fashion,  when  compared  to  his?  They  arc 
beastly  indulgence,  and  sensual  gratification. 
It  is  like  comparing  a  drop  of  water^o  the  ocean, 
agrainof  sand  to  tliis  terraqueous  ball?  a  candle 
totliesun,  or  hell  to  heaven. 

All  nature  smiles  upon  him,  and  he  upon  the 
face  of  nature.  The  most  superficial  view  of  the 
bounties  and  beauties  of  this  expansive  creation, 
dilates  his  heart,  enraptures  all  iiis  intellectaal 
faculties.  Hc^  calls  upon  the  universe,  and  tlie 
universe  calls  upon  him,  to  praise  t/.e  Divine  Be  v 
iiefactor,  the  Parent  of  Good.     He  sees 


f<In  native  white  and  red, 

The  rose  and  lily  stand, 
Ind  free  from  pride  their  beauties  sprcati^ 

^Fo  sliow  his  skilful  hand. 


58  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

The  lark  mounts  to  the  sky, 

M'ith  unambitious  son^, 
And  bears  her  Maker's  praise  on  high, 

Upon  her  artless  tong-ue,'' 

Wlicn  lie  sees  autumn  approacLing  majosliraliy 
grand,  loaded  with  bountic^i,  to  rcwai'd  the  farni- 
or's  toil,  he  lifts  an  affectionate  thouglit,  an  hum- 
ble acknowledgment,  in  pure^  praises  to  the  E- 
tenial  Benefactor  from  whom  all  blessings  liovr. 
His  enjoyments  arc  refined:  they  penetrate  tin 
heart;  they  ennoble  the  mind,  they  produce  tlie 
most  lively  gratitude.  And  nothing  contributes, 
in  so  high  a  degree,  to  enliven  prosperity,  as  gra- 
titude; and  nothing  is  more  pleasing  to  the  Deity 
iiimsehf,  than  a  thankful  heart;  which  is  the  chief 
return  he  ref{uircs  for  his  accumulated  benedi^ 
tions.     For, 

*«God  Is  paid  when  man  receives; 
To  enjoy  is  to  obey/^ 

While  the  wy^cked  man  can,  or  rather  will,  onl/ 
trace  the  source  of  his  prosperity  and  riches  to 
supernumerary  success  and  local  advantages;  the 
good  man  sees  them  all  coming  from  the  hand  of 
that  God,  who  hath  conducted,  protected,  and 
preserved  him  from  his  cradle,  and  througli  each 
intervening  period  of  his  life.  While  the  wicked 
only  enjoy  prosperity  tlie  short  period  of  the  pre- 
sent state;  the  righteous  reap  more  solid  peace 
from  the  anticipation  of  future  glory,  and  felicity 
in  a  world  of  spirits  than  from  all  their  earthly 
possessions.  One  only  participates  the  pleasure 
peculiar  to  midnight  robbers,  who,  in  tlieir  revel- 
lings  arc  haunted  with  the  fear  of  detection,  and 
consequent  punishment:  tlie  other  enjoys  pure 
^sentimental  deliglit,    ineifable  comfort,    without 


VINDICATED.  59 

fear  or  iiithnidation;  as  tlic  virtuous  son  of  a  gra- 
cious king,  confiding  in  Ins  father's  munificence, 
participates  bis  liberality  with  full  assurance  of 
Iris  paternal  protection"  and  apj>robation.  Tlie 
case  of  David,  king  of  Israei,  presents  itself  to 
prove  tbe  assertion.  See,  witli  \vhat  an  amiable 
simpiiclty  and  divine  assurance  be  eprcsses  bis 
confidence  in,  and  grateful  acknowledgments  to, 
his  Fatber  and  sovereign^,  tbe  King  of  kings  and 
I^ord  of  lords. 

^•Tiic  Lord  is  my  sbeplierd;  I  sball  not  want. 
He  maketb  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastui-es;  be 
leadetb  me  beside  tbe  still  waters.  He  restoreth 
my  soul;  be  leadetb  me  in  tbe  patbs  of  rigliteous- 
iiess  for  bis  name's  sake.  Yea,  tliougb  I  walk 
tbrougb  tbe  valley  of  tbe  shadow  of  deatb,  I  will 
fear  no  evil;  for  tbou  i^rt  with  me:  tby  rod  and 
thy  staff  tbey  comfort  me.  Tbou  p]*eparest  a  ta- 
ble before  me  in  the  presence  of  mine  enemies: 
tbou  anointest  my  bead  witli  oil;  my  cup  run- 
neth ever.  Surely  goodness  and  mercy  sball  fol- 
low^ me  all  tbe  days  of  my  life:  and  I  will  dwell 
in  tbe  bouse  of  the  Lord  forever." 

Is  it  not  of  tbe  \ci'y  first  importance,  that  par- 
ents should  inculcate  tbe  principles  of  virtuous 
sensibility  and  moral  obligation  upon  tbe  juvenile 
minds  of  tbeir  children,  since  it  is  evident,  that 
tbe  good  things  of  tins  world,  cannot  be  enjojed 
witliout  tbe  concurring  iniluence  of  religion  and 
virtue,  much  less  those  of  the  world  to  come. 
Trtic,  tbey  mayliourisb  in  tha  eyes  of  tbe  world, 
swim  in  wealth,  be  intoxicated  in  vanity,  and 
engrossed  with  tbe  formalities  of  life;  but  all  this 
T.ilifiot  produce  an  bour's  j-eal  peace.     S  msual 

lafincation  they   may   enjoy,    but   never  true 


60  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

peace;  for  if  the  wretched  child  of  fortune  was  to 
appropriate  to  himself  a  moment  of  serious  reHec- 
tion,  the  fear  of  death  would  soon  cliastise  the 
latent  joy,  and  bid  it  hence  depart.  Thus,  he  is 
miserable  within,  but  splendid  without;  rebuked 
by  his  conscience;  applauded  by  his  sycopliants* 
^ho  hope  to  gain,  by  their  adulation,  pecuniary 
emoluments:  but,  wlien  his  riches  take  wings  and 
fly  away,  his  flatterers  will  fly  away  with  them. 
Or,  when  death  snatches  him  away  from  them,  he 
will  be  soon  forgotten,  and  on  his  monumental 
i3ti)ne  may,  w  ith  propriety^  be  written  the  follow 
ing  epitaph: 

*<IIovvlovM,    how  valu'cl,    once,   avails  thee  not. 

To  whom  related,    or  by  whom  begot; 

A  heap  of  dust  alone  remains  of  tliee, 

Tis  all  thou  art,    and  all  the  proud  shall  be.*' 

No  doubt  many  will  be  ready  to  conclude,  that 
1  degrade,  instead  of  exalting  and  vindicating, 
the  excellency  of  the  female  cliaracter,  and  Mill 
be  ready  to  I'cprobate  the  freedom  1  use  in  my  ani4 
madversions;  but  the  vices  and  follies  of  the  age 
call  for  them.  The  female  character  is  excellent 
indeed,  wlien  their  deportment  is  consistent  with 
the  end  and  design  of  their  creation,  to  wit:  the, 
glorj  of  God,  their  own  peace,  and  to  be  man^s 
help-mate.  With  respect  to  the  purity  and  bene- 
volence of  my  intentions,  J  can  appeal  to  the 
Searcher  of  all  hearts  to  witness  my  sincerity, 
and  for  the  truth ^^'  of  my  assertions  1  appeal  to  the 


*Though    I    have  been  very  careles?  in  the  composi- 
tion ofthis  work,    1  liave,    on  the  other   hand,    been  ve 
ry  careful  to  suggest  no  sentiments  nor  give  any  advic-. 
bat  what  will  promote  th^c   best  interests  of  the  hunv. 


VINDICATED.  6i 

conscience  of  the  most  hardened  libertine,  or  the 
most  imprudent  votary  of  female  fashion,  to  de- 
cide, whetlier  they  are  not  consistent  with  truth 


fkmlly.  This  is  not  the  case  with  many  ingenious 
works  on  education,  their  authors  take  much  pains  to 
embellish  their  composition,  but  pay  little  regard  to 
the  accuracy  of  the  sentiments  they  develope.  The 
•'Rights  of  Woman'*  in  particular,  1  acknowledge,  is 
an  elegant  written  work  as  it  respects  its  composition, 
but  the  sentiments  too  often  tend,  in  my  humble  opin- 
ipn,  to  consolidate  the  errings  instead  of  %'indicating 
the  rights  of  Women.  The  author,  no  doubt,  took  ve- 
ry great  pains  in  composing  that  work,  and  very  little, 
to  appearance,   in  correcting  the  sentiments  therein. 

However,  as  she  was  masculijie  herself,  she  perhaps 
thought  all  women  like  her  in  this  respect.  One  of 
her  sentiments,  relative  to  boys  and  girls  being  instruct^ 
ed  and  kept  in  each  others  company  as  much  as  possi- 
ble, Ithink  is  calculated  to  be  very  injurious.  Indeed, 
I  am  entirely  of  a  different  opinion.  Boys  and  girls,  I 
think,  sho\ild  be  kept  apart  as  much  as  possible,  es- 
pecially when  advanced  in  years.  By  neglecting  this 
precaution,  many  parents  and  teachers  have  given  the 
children  under  their  care  an  opportunity  to  lay  the 
foundation  of  a  life  of  dissipation  and  debauchery.  I 
could  mention  young  apprentice  boys  and  girls,  as  well 
as  juvenile  school-mates,  who  have  been  ruined  by  the 
neglect  of  their  masters,  teachers,  and  parents.  I  will 
^o  farther  and  affirm,  that  boys  and  girls  should  not  be 
sent  to  the  same  school  together,  and  parents  should 
be  very  cautious  how  they  send  their  daughters  even 
to  boarding  schools,  could  they  see  the  infinite  injury 
children  have  met  with  from  these  quarters,  they  would 
weep  and  tremble  by  turns  for  the  safety  of  tbeir  off- 
spring, as  well  as  for  the  unutterable  evils  to  be  seen 
in  society,  which  eventually  had  their  primary  ori^iD 
in  the  negUct  of  parents  and  teachers. 


62  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

and  propriety.  I  do^  indeed,  exalt  the  female 
character  higher  than  the  male,  in  those  qualifi- 
cations which  ennoble  human  nature,  and  make 
it  almost  angelic;  and  those  are  benevolence,  sym- 
pathy, commisseration;  and,  as  it  respects  every 
other  acquirement  which  men  have,  or  ever  will 
attain,  1  contend  that  the  natural  genius  of  wo- 
men can,  if  improved,  make,  on  an  equal  par. 
the  same  attainments*  My  object  is  to  show  w( 
men  themselves  \^hat  noble,  exalted,  glorious, 
(and  I  almost  said)  heavenly  beings  they  are,  while 
they  act  conformably  to  their  high  vocation;  and, 
to  reverse  the  idea,  what  poor,  helpless,  and 
despicable  beings  they  are,  when,  instead  of  an- 
swering the  noble  end  for  which  they  were  created, 
namely,  to  act  a  reasonable,  judicious,  and  cha- 
ritable part  in  this  world;  to  be  a  benefit  to  man- 
kind, and  the  glory  of  their  Creator,  and  to  en- 
joy his  beatific  presence  and  giory  in  eternity; 
they  prostitute  their  talents  in  the  service  of  Sa- 
tan, and  their  persons  mentally,  and,  alas!  too 
often  corporeally,  to  the  promiscuous  lust  of  the 
votaries  of  sensuality  and  libei'tinism.  For,  cer- 
tainly, the  fashionable  female,  who  exposes  pub- 
licly what  prudence  should  conceal,  not  only  en- 
tices the  male  of  ardent  passions  to  perpetrate,  but 
also  commits  the  crime  of  sentimental  fornication 
herself;  for,  surely,  if  he  who  looks  upon  such  a 
woman  to  lust  after  her,  is  guilty  of  adultery  in 
liis  heart,  according  to  our  dear  Redeemer's  oh- 
serration;  the  woman  who  entices  him  is  equally 
guilty.  These  are  serious  considerations,  which 
the  day  of  judgment  will  abundantly  develope.  In 
ord^n-  to  prove,  that  I  am  not  alone  m  reprobating 
t  ^  ices  of  men,  I  will  close  this  chapter  with  a 
qaotation  from  the  writing  of  1  homas  Eilwood,  a 
pious  and  holy  man,  who  was  imprisoned,    in 


VIJvDlCATEB.  65 

Great  liritain,  for  bearing  an  honest  and  uia af- 
fected testimony  to  the  truth,  as  it  u^  in  Jesus^ 
our  dear  and  precious  Redeemer.  The  follomng 
lines  were  written  while  lie  was  in  prison: 

*^'Why  sliorJJ  rny  modest  muse  forbidden  bcj 
Fo  speak  of  that  which  but  too  many  see? 
Why  should  she,   by  conniving",   seem  t' uphold 
Men's  wickedness,    and  thereby  make  them  bold 
Still  to  persist  in't?   Why  should  she  be  shy 
To  call  them  beasts,  who  want  hu?nantfi/P 
Why  should  she  any  longer  silence  keep. 
And  lie  secure  as  one  that's  fast  asleep* 
Or,   how  indeed  can  it  expected  be. 
That  she  should  hold  her  tongue,   and  daily  seb 
Those  wicked  and  enonnous  crimes  committed. 
Which  she  in  modesty  has  pretermitted.^ 
Which  but  to  name,    would  with  their  filth  defile 
Chaste  ears,   and  cast  a  blemish  on  her  style; 
Yet,   of  so  many,   she  cannot  forbear 
To  mention  some,   which  here  detected  are. 

''^Loud  were  the  cries,  which  long"  had  pierc'd  my  cSi 
JFoul  the  reports,   which  I  did  daily  hear. 
Unheard  of,   new-invented  crimes  w^ere  brought, 
l&y  fa?ne,  unto  my  knowledge,    which  1  thought 
Too  foul  and  loathsome  to  have  found  a  place 
In  any  heart,   though  ne'er  so  void  of  grace. 
This  rcad^  me  take  a  more  observant  view^ 
Whether  report  spake  what  of  meti  is  true. 

«'But  as  the  celebrated  southern  atrEEX, 
When  she  the  court  of  Solomon  had  seen. 
And  had,  with  more  than  usual  diligence. 
Observ'd  his  splendor  and  magnificence, 
Consider'd  well  his  pomp,  his  port,    bis  statCi 
The  great  retinue  that  on  him  did  wait; 
As  one  with  admiration  fiUM  (no  doubt 
Not  able  longer  to  contain)  burst  out 


04  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Info  such  xV'ords  as  these:   'Thrice  happy  king? 
Whose  fame  throughout  the  universe  doth  ring-.^ 
Though  of  thine  acts  I  thoug-ht  report  too  bold. 
Yet  now  I  see  one  half  hath  not  been  told.' 
just  so  did  I,   though  in  another  kind. 
After  I  had  intently  fix'd  my  mind 
Upon  men's  actions,  and  had  duly  weigh  d. 
Not  only  what  they  did,  but  what  they  saict 

**Was  Sodom  ever  guilty  of  a  sin. 
Which  England  is  not  now  involved  in' 
By  custom,  drunkenness  so  common's  grovv^n 
That  most  men  count  it  a  small  sin,  or  none; 
Manting  and  roaring  they  affirm  to  be. 
The  true  characters  o^  gentility. 
Swearing  and  cursing  is  so  much  in  fasliiori^ 
That  'tis  esteem'd  a  badge  of  reputation. 
What  dreadful  oaths/  what  direful  execrations 
On  others;   on  themselves  what  imprecations 
They  tumble  out,   like  roaring"  claps  of  thunder. 
.As  if  they  meant  to  rend  the  clouds  asunder' 
Mockers  do  so  abound  in  every  place. 
That  rare  it  is  to  meet  a  sober  face. 
Ambition,    boasting,   vanity,  and  pride. 
With  numbers  numberless  of  sins  beside, 
Are  grown,  through  use,   so  common  that  men  cal 
^Them  peccadilloes;   small,   or  none  at  all. 

<«But,   oh!    the  luxury  Siud  great  excess 
^Which  by  this  wanton  age  is  us'd  in  dress/ 
What  pains  do  men  and  women  take,   alas! 
To  make  themselves  for  arrant  bedlam's  pass. 
And  he  that  in  a  modest  garb  is  drest, 
Is  made  the  laughing-stock  of  all  thb  rest. 
AH  things  to  lust  and  wantonness  are  fitted, 
Nothing  that  tends  to  vanity  omitted. 
To  give  a  touch  on  every  an^tc  fashion, 
Which  hath  been  worn  of  late  within  this  nation, 
Might  fill  a  volume,   which  would  tire,   no  doubt, 
'The  ^EADEu's  patience,  if  not  wear  it  out. 


VINDICATED.  %i> 

^<Goiiae  uow,  ye  ranting  gallants  of  the  times, 
Who  nothings  have  to  boast  of  but  your  crimes. 
Blasphemous  wretches!  whose  impieties^ 
With  rude  assaults  have  storm'd  the  very  skies. 
And  dar'd  the  God  of  heaven;   a  dreadful  stroke 
-Shall  ye  receive,   by  which  ye  shall  be  broke. 
And  in  the  fiery  lake  those  torments  find, 
"Which  for  such  desperadoes  are  assignM, 

^«And  ye,    who  take  so  g'reat  delight  to  curse. 
As  that  you  think  yourselves  a  deal  the  worse, 
tJnless  unto  the  hig-hest  strain  ye  stvell. 
And  wish  the  devil  make  your  bed  in  hell; 
This  know,    the  long*  provoked  God  is  come. 
From  whom  ye  must  receive  that  dreadful  doonin; 
Depart  ye  cursed^    and  forever  dwells 
Where  beds  of  torments  are  prepared  in  helL^^ 


^f  Since  what  precedes  was  written,   I  have  found 
An  accusation  form'd,    but  without  ground, 
Against  me,    that  with  uncontrolled  pen, 
I  too  severely  lash  the  faults  of  men; 
And  take  upon  me  in  satiric  rhymes. 
To  pass  a  rigid  censure  on  the  times. 
This  drew  me  on  to  add  another  linej 
To  show  them  that  the  fault's  their  own,   not  minq; 
No  crime  can  justly  to  my  charge  be  laid. 
Unless  it  be  a  crime,  that  truth  he  said. 
Nor  can,   without  injustice,    any  blame 
My  muse  for  echoing  the  common  fame. 

«af  any  should  object,   that  wise  men  hold. 
That  truth  at  all  times  ought  not  to  be  told. 
Nor  that  whatever  comes  into  one's  head, 
ShGuld  straig^ht,  IiQc;iuge  'tis  true,  b<j  published^ 


66  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

I  readily  assent,    because  I  know 
Pearls  before  swine  we  are  forbid  to  throw. 
Some  truths,  I  grant,  may  better  be  conceal'ds 
Than  if  they  out  of  season  were  reveaPd; 
Yet  would  I  not  tliat  any,   through  mistake 
Should  of  my  words  a  misconstruction  make. 
Than  that  should  liappen,   I  had  rather  be 
Tax'd  by  the  reader  for  prolixity. 

**Thus,  then,   in  brief,  would  I  be  understood,. 
If  what  I  know,   concerns  my  brother's  good. 
For  him  to  know;   ought  1  not  then  unfold 
It  to  him,    rather  than  from  him  withhold 
j\  benefit?    So,    on  the  other  side. 
It  is,    I  think,   too  plain  to  be  deny'd, 
That  if  I  see  what  certainly  doth  tend 
To  the  hurt  of  my  neighbor  or  my  friend, 
I  am  oblig'd,    by  christian  chariiy. 
To  give  them  warning  of  the  danger  nigh; 
To  shew  them,   that  they  stand  upon  the  brink 
Of  certain  ruin;   and  if  then  they  sink. 
By  wilful  running  on,   I  shall  be  free 
From  guilt,   their  blood  on  their  own  heads  will  bfti> 
^Tis  plain  I  think;  yet  if  ye  can't  believe  it 
"Without  a  scripture  proof,   lo,   here*  I  give  it. 
This  is  the  very  case;   which  if  well  I  weigh*d, 
"Will  fully  justify  what  I  have  said, 

««I  saw  men  running  to  a  precipice. 
At  foot  of  which  was  such  a  vast  abyss, 
As  could  have  swallow'd  nations  so  inimense^ 
That  'twas  impossible  to  climb  out  thence. 
For  if  a  man  we  ^ee,   but  chance  to  pitch, 
Overhead  and  ears  into  some  miry  ditchj 
How  quickly  is  he  smothered,   unless 
Some  friendly  hand  assist  in  that  distress! 


"^'fjf.vif^ix,    1T<  '  Eztk,   xxxiii. 


VINDICATED.  m 

Ab3  iA   with  struggling',    out  iit  length  he  get^ 
Yet  how  besmear'd  is  he  with  dirt  and  wet! 
But  into  this  deep  pit  who  fails,    in  vain 
Expects  a  hand  to  help  him  out  again. 
Ho  *tis  of  grace  that  men  forwarned  are, 
And,  ere  their  feet  are  taken,   shewed  the  snaHe^ 

•«And  warned  they  must  be.      For  so  was  I, 
While  roving  in  their  paths  of  vanity^ 
ToiPdand  hewilder'd  in  a  dismal  night 
Of  thick  Egyptian  darkness,   from  the  light: 
From  whence  the  Lord  hath,    by  his  love  me  drawD^, 
And  in  my  heart  hath  caused  his  day  to  dawn. 
His  glorious  day,    his  ncver-sttting  sun 
To  rise,    and  darkness  to  expel  begun^ 
This  love,    as  it  arises,   w^arms  my  heartj 
And  fills  it  with  desires  to  impart 
<yo  others  of  its  goodness,    that  none  may, 
^^or  waat  of  good  direction^   miss  their  way* 


CHAPTER  m. 

The  primary  Cause  of  the  Encroachments  of  Men  upoii 
the  Rig-hts  of  Women  considered, 


In  most  parts  of  the  world,  females  are  consid- 
ered by  the  male  part  of  society,  merely  as  ob- 
jects  of  sensual  convenience  and  domestic  accom- 
modation; possessed  with  animal,  but  destitute  of 
immortal  spirits,  and  even  in  Christendom,  many 
degrade  and  represent  them  as  inferior,  in  point 
of  intellectualfaculties  to  the  male.  My  object 
.here,  is,  to  investigate  the  radical  cause  of  thia 
degradation:  and,  i.i  the  first  place,  I  must  im- 
pute this  strange  infatuation,  this  unnatural  con- 
clusion, to  error  in  education,  a  wrong  associa- 
tion of  ideas  in  youth,  which  is  handed  down  from 
one  generation  to  another,  as  it  were,  by  heredi- 
tary succession;  till  that  hypothesis,  which  is, 
in  fact,  an  insult  to  common  sense,  daily  expe- 
rience, and  the  nature  of  things,  is,  by  custom, 
reduced  to  a  natural  supposition,  a  received  opin- 
ion. 

I  am  very  confident  in  the  opinion,  that  this  ne- 
glect is  the  cause  of  infinite  evil  in  civil  society, 
and  is  the  parent  of  accumulated  and  unnatural 
crimes. 

I  would  ask,  is  not  a  judicious  education  the 
best  fortune  a  child,  whether  male  or  female,  can 
receive?  Why  then,  has  a  large  majority  of  the 
sons  of  men  adopted  the  most  spurious,  the  most 
unjust,  and  ungenerous  sentiments  respecting  the 


70  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

i  cm  ale  character,  and  the  most  farcical  and  ludi 
crous  notions  respecting  female  education?  I  ask 
again,  why,  in  the  name  of  wonder,  is  the  culti- 
vation of  the  female  mind,  even  hy  the  refined 
sons  of  Europe,  considered  merely  as  a  matter 
of  secondary  consideration,  except  it  is  amongst 
the  rich  and  affluent;  and  even  then  one  would 
suppose,  by  the  education  that  many  parents  give 
their  daughters,  that  they  intend  them  to  be  play 
actors  or  dancing  girls,  instead  of  being  the  pru- 
dent and  judicious  mothers  of  respectable  fami- 
lies; and  this,  I  w  ill  be  bold  to  say,  is  the  radi- 
cal cause  that  multitudes  of  these  characters,  cal- 
led ladies,  are  the  most  useless  beings,  the  most, 
vain,  capricious,  versatile,  gaudy,  and  affected 
mortals  in  the  creation.  Like  the  useless  butter- 
fly that  appears  fluttering  in  the  sun  on  a  sum- 
mer's day,  flying  from  flower  to  flower  in  the 
scented  gardens,  its  beauteous  wings  are  tipt 
•with  gold;  the  enraptured  child  views  it  with  de- 
light and  admiration,  all  glittering  to  behold, 
and  endeavors  to  catch  the  spangled  prize,  when 
a  shower  descends  and  w  raps  the  lovely  toy  in  a 
watery  grave;  the  disappointed  child  views  it, 
languid  on  the  plain,  its  beauty  forever  fled. 
This  similitude  will  hold  good  with  respect  to  too 
many  female  characters,  who  spend  their  timp 
and  talents  in  as  useless  a  manner,  and  with  the 
same  superficial  appearance  as  the  painted  butter- 
fly, particularly  in  cities;  indeed,  there  is  a  great 
contrast  between  the  manners  and  customs  of  the 
females  of  the  country  and  city,  as  well  as  in 
their  mode  of  life;  the  native  grandeur,  the  un- 
affected simplicity,  the  rural  felicity  peculiar  to 
a  country  life,  are,  in  my  opinion,  as  much  supe- 
rior to  the  vicissitudes,  fopperies  and  fashions  of 
^  city  Ufe^  a«  the  radiance  ef  the  native  rose  is 


VINDICATED.  71 

superior  to  the  artificivil  one,  I  can  find  no  lan- 
guage to  prove  my  opinion  to  be  correct,  more 
cogently  than  the  following  appropriate  lines  on 

PHILOSOPHIC  SOLITUDE,  kc. 

•'Let  ardent  heroes  seek  renown  in  arms, 
l*ant  after  fame,   and  rush  to  war's  alarms; 
To  shining  palaces  let  fools  resort. 
And  dunces  cringe  to  be  esteemM  at  court; 
Mine  be  the  pleasure  of  a  rural  life. 
From  noise  remote,    and  ignorant  of  strife; 
Far  from  the  painted  belle,    and  white  glov'd  beau,, 
The  lawless  masquerade,   and  midnight  show,- 
From   ladies  lap-dogs,    courtiers,   garters,    stars^ 
Fops,   fiddlersj   tyrants,    emperors,   and  czars, 

*«Full  in  the  centre  of  some  shady  grove. 
By  nature  formed  for  solitude  and  love; 
On  banks  array'd  with  ever  blooming  flowers. 
Near  beauteous  landscapes,    or  by  roseate  bowers^ 
My  neat,  but  simple  mansion  I  would  raise. 
Unlike  the  sumptuous  domes  of  modern  days^ 
Devoid  of  pomp,    with  rural  plainness  form'd. 
With  savage  game,   and  glossy  shells  adorn'd. 

«*No  costly  furniture  should  grace  my  hall. 
But  curling  vines  ascend  against  the  wall, 
Whose  pliant  branches  should  luxuriant  twine. 
While  purple  clusters,   swelled  with  future  wine; 
'ro  slake  my  thirst,   a  liquid  lapse  distil. 
From  craggy  rocks,    and  spread  a  limpid  tUU 
Along  my  mansion  spiry  firs  should  grow. 
And  gloomy  yews  extend  the  shady  row. 
The  cedars  flourish,    and  the  poplars  rise 
Sublimely  tall,    and  shoot  into  the  skies; 
Among  the  leaves  refreshing  zephyrs  play 
And  crowding  trees  exclude  the  noon-tide  ray; 
Whereon  the  birds  their  downy  nests  should  fonP> 
:Sccurcly  sheltered  from  the  batt'ring  storm, 


72  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

And  to  melodious  notes  their  choir  apply. 
Soon  as  Aurora  blush'd  along"  the  sky; 
"While  all  around  the  enchanting  music  ring's. 
And  every  vocal  grove  responsive  eing-s. 

**Me  to  sequestered  scenes,   ye  muses  guide^ 
Where  nature  wantons  in  her  virgin  pride, 
To    mossy  banks,    edg'd  round  with  op'ning  flowers, 
Elysian  fields  and  amaranthian  bowers; 
To  ambrosial  founts,    and  sleep-inspiring  rills. 
To  herba^'d  vales,  gay  lawns  and  sunny  hills, 

"Welcome  ye  shades!   all  hail,    ye  vernal  blooms! 
Ye  bowery  thickets,    and  prophetic  glooms* 
Ye  torests,    hail!   ye  solitary  woods! 
Love  whispering  groves,    and  silver  streaming  floods- 
Ye  meads,    that  aromatic  sweets  exhale! 
Ye  birds  and  all  ye  sylvan  beauties,  hail! 
Oh!  how  I  long  with  you  to  spend  my  days^ 
Invoke  the  muse,   and  try  the  rural  lays! 

^*No  trumpets  there  with  martial  clangor  sound. 
No  prostrate  heroes  strew  the  crimson'd  ground? 
No  groves  of  lances  glitter  in  the  air. 
Nor  thund'ring  drums  provoke  the  sanguine  war?. 
But  white-robed  peace,    and  universal  love 
Smile  in  the  field  and  brighten  every  grove. 
There  all  the  beauties  of  the  circling  year, 
In  native  ornamental  pride  appear; 
Gay  rosy-bosomed  Spring  and  April  showers. 
Wake  from  tlfe  tomb  of  earth  the  rising  flowers. 
Jn  deeper  verdure  Su3«»fm  clothes  the  plain, 
And  Autumn  bends  beneath  the  golden  grain; 
The  trees  weep  amber,   and  the  whispering  gales 
Breeze  oVr  the  lawn,   or  murmur  through  the  valeSl 
The  flowery  tribes  in  gay  confusion  bloom. 
Profuse  of  sweets,   and  fragrant  with  perfume i 
On  blossoms  blossoms,  fruits  on  fruits  arise, 
Ai)d  varied  prospects  g-lad  the  wand'ring  eycs^ 


VINDICATED.  Ta 

In  these  fair  seats  I'd  pass  the  joyous  day, 

Where  meadows  flourish  and  where  fields  look  gay; 

From  bliss  to  bliss  with  endless  pleasure  rove, 

Seek  crystal  streams,   or  haunt  the  vernal  grove. 

Woods,   fountains,   lakes,   the  fertile  fields,   or  shades^ 

Aerial  mountains  or  subjacent  glades. 

<*There  from  the  polished  fetters  of  the  great, 
Triumphal  piles,    and  gilded  rooms  of  state; 
Prime  ministers  and  sycophantic  knaves. 
Illustrious  villains,    and  illustrious  slaves; 
From  all  the  vain  formality  of  fools. 
An  odious  task  of  arbitrary  rules; 
The  ruffling  cares  which  the  vex'd  soul  annoy^ 
The  wealth  the  rich  possess,    but  not  enjoy. 
The  visionary  bliss*  the  world  can  lend, 
The  insidious  foe^   and  f^lse  designing  friend. 
The  seven-fold  fury  o^  Xantippe^s  soul, 

And  S ^8  rage  that  burns  without  control, 

I'd  live  retir'd,    contented,    and  serene. 
Forgot^  unknown,   unenvied,   and  unseen, 

<*Yet  not  a  real  hermitage  I'd  choose,     • 
Nor  wish  to  live  from  all  the  world  recluse^ 
IJut  with  a  friend  sometimes  unbend  the  soul, 
In  social  converse,    o'er  the  sprightly  bowl. 

With  cheerful  W ,   serene  and  wisely  gay, 

I'd  often  pass  the  dancing  hours  away: 
He  skill'd  alike  to  profit  and  to  please, 
Politely  talks  with  unaffected  ease; 
Sage  in  debate,    and  faithful  to  his  trusty 
Mature  in  science,   and  severely  just; 
Of  soul  diffusive,   vast  and  u?iconfin'd. 
Breathing  benevolence  to   all  mankind — 
Cautious  to  censure,   ready  to  commend, 
A  firm,   unshaken,    uncorrupted  friend: 
In  early  youth  fair  wisdom's  paths  he  trod. 
In  early  youth  a  minister  of  God: 


74  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Each  pupil  lovM  him  when  at  Yah  he  shone> 
\nd  every  bleeding-  bosom  weeps  him  gone. 

Dear  A ,   too^  should  gi-ace  my  rural  seav 

Forever  welcome  to  the  green  retreat: 
Heaven  for  the  cause  of  righteousness  designed 
His  florid  genius,    and  capacious  mind: 
Oft  have  I  heard,    amidst  the  adoring  throng* 
Celestial  truths  devolving  from  his  tongue; 
High  o'er  the  listening  audience  seen  him  stand.v 
Divinely  speak,  and  graceful  stretch  his  hand. 
With  such  becoming  grace  and  pompous  sound. 
"With  long  rob'd  senators  encircled  round, 
Before  the  Roman  bar,    while  Home  was  free, 
Nor  bow'd  to  Cxaar'^s  throne  the  servile  knee; 
Immortal  Tully  plead  the  patriot  cause. 
While  every  tongue  resounded  his  applause. 

Kext  round  my  board  should  candid  S appear, 

Of  manners  gentle,   and  a  friend  sincere. 

Averse  to  discord,    party-rage  and  strife, 

He  sails  serenely  down  the  stream  of  life. 

With  these  three  friends^    beneath  a  spreading  shade,, 

Where  silver  fountains  murniur  through  the  glade; 

Or  in  cool  grots,    perfum'd  with  native  flowers. 

In  harmless  mirth  I'd  spend  the  circling  hpurs; 

Or  gravely  talk,  or  innocently  sing. 

Or,   in  harmonious  concert,   strike  the  trembling  string 

<'Amid  seques.ter'd  bowers  n,ear  gliding  streams, 
Druids  and  Bards  enjoy'd  serenest  dreams. 
Such  was  the  seat  where  courtly  Horace  sung: 
And  his  bold  harp  immoxtal  Mara  strung: 
Where  tuneful  Orpheus*  unresisted  lay. 
Made  rapid  tigers  bear  their  rage  away; 
While  groves  attentive  to  the  ecstatic  sound 
Burst  from  their  roots,  and  raptur'd,   danced  around- 
Such  seats  the  venerable  Seers  of  old 
(When  blissful  years  in  golden  circles  rolPd) 
Chose  and  admir'd:   e'en  goddesses  and  gods 
(As  poets  feign)   were  fond  of  such  abodes 


VINDICATED.  : 

The  imperial  consort  of  fictitious  /ov^/ 

For  fount-full  Ida  forsook  the  realms  above. 

Oft  to  Idalla  on  a  golden  cloud, 

VeiPd  in  a  mist  of  fragrance,    Fenus  rode; 

There  numerous  altars  to  the  queen  were  rear'd, 

And  love-sick  youths  their  am'rous  vows  preferred, 

While  fair-hair'd  damsels  (a  lascivious  train) 

With  A^anton  rites  ador'd  her  gentle  reign. 

The  silver-shafted  Huntress  of  the  woods. 

Sought  pendant  shades,    and  bathed  in  cooling  floods 

In  palmy  Deios,    by  Scammander^s  side. 

Or  where  Cajister  rolPd  his  silver  tide, 

Melodious  PIkkIjus  sang:  the  Muses  round 

Alternate  warbling  to  the  heavenly  sound. 

E'en  the  feign'd  Monarch  of  heaven's  bright  abode^ 

High  thronM  in  gold,    of  gods  the  sovereign  god. 

Oft  time  prefer'd  the  shade  of  Ida^s  grove 

To  all  the  ambrosial  feasts,  and  nectarM  cups  above 

*<Behold  the  rosy-finger'd  morning  dawn. 
In  saffron  rob'd,    and  blushing  o^'erthe  lawn! 
Reflected  from  the  clouds,   a  radiant  stream, 
Tips  with  ethereal  dew  the  mountain's  brim. 
The  unfolding  roses,    and  the  opening  flowers 
Imbibe  the  dew,    and  strew  the  varied  bowers. 
Diffuse  nectarious  sweets  around,   and  glow 
With  all  the  colors  of  the  showery  bow. 
The  industrious  bees  their  balmy  toil  renew. 
Buzz  o'er  the  field  and  sip  the  rosy  dew. 
But  yonder  comes  the  illustrious  god  of  day. 
Invests  the  east,   and  gilds  the  ethereal  way; 
The  groves  rejoice'  the  feathered  nations  sing, 
Echo  the  mountains  and  the  vallies  ring, 

<<Hail,  orb!   array'd  with  majesty  and  fire. 
That  bids  each  sable  shade  of  night  retire! 
Fountain  of  light!    with  burning  glory  crown'd. 
Darting  a  deluge  of  effulgence  round! 
Wak'd  by  thy  genial  and  prolific  ray, 
Nature  resumes  her  verdure  and  looks  gay 


ft)  FEMALE   CHARACTER 

Fresh  blooms  the  rose,    the  drooping  plants  revive. 

The  groves  reflourish,   and  the  forests  live. 

Deep  in  the  teeming  earth,  the  rip'ning  ore 

Confesses  thy  consolidating  power? 

Hence  labor  draws  her  tools,    and  artists  mould 

The  fusile  silver  and  the  ductile  gold: 

Hence  war  is  furnished,    and  the  regal  shield 

Like  lightening  flashes  o^er  th'  illumin'd  field. 

If  thou  so  fair  with  delegated  light. 

That  all  heaven's  splendors  vanish  at  thy  sight; 

With  what  effulgence  must  the  ocean  glow! 

From  which  thy  borrow'd  beams  incessant  flow  I 

Th'  exhaustless  source,   whose  single  smile  supplies*, 

Th'  unnumbered  orbs  that  gild  the  spangled  skies? 

<*OftwouldI  view,   in  admiration  lost, 
Heaven's  sumptuous  canopy,  and  starry  host. 
With  levelled  tube  and  astronomic  eye, 
Pursue  the  planets  whirling  through  the  sky: 
Immeasurable  vault f   where  thunders  roll. 
And  forked  light'nings  flash  from  pole  to  pole 
Say,    railing  infidelT   canst  thou  survey 
Yon  globe  of  fire,   that  gives  the  golden  day. 
The  harmonious  structure  of  this  vast  machine. 
And  not  confess  its  Architect  divine? 
Then  go,    vain  wretch:   tliough  deathless  be  thy  soul 
Go  swell  the  riot'   and  exhaust  the  bowl; 
Flunge  into  vice,    humanity  resign, 
Go,  fill  the  sty,    and  bristle  into  swine! 


<«None  hvLt  a  power  omnipotent  and  wise 
Could  frame  this  earth,    or   spread  the  boundless  skics. 
He  made  the  whole;  at  his  omnific  call. 
From  formless  chaos  rose  this  spacious  ball, 
And  one  Almighty  God  is  seen  in  all. 
By  him  our  cup,  is  crown'd,    our  table  spread 
AVith  luscious  wine,    and  life-sustaining  bread. 
What  countless  wonders  doth  the  earth  contain: 
What  countless  wonders  the  unfathom'd  main! 


i3    SJ 

1 


VINDICATED. 

Bedrop'd  vvlih  gold,   their  scaly  nations  shine, 
Haunt  coral  groves,   or  lash  the  foaming*  brine. 
dEHOVAH'S  glories  blaze  all  nature  round. 
In  heaven,   ofi  earth,   and  in  the  deeps  profound; 
Ambitious  of  his  name,   the  warblers  sing", 
And  praise  their  Maker  while  they  hail  the  spring: 
The  zephyrs  breathe  it>    and  the  thunders  roar. 
While  surge  to  surge,   and  shore  resounds  to  shore- 
But  Ma.n,    endued  with  an  immortal  mind, 
His  taker's  image,   and  for  heaven  designed! 
To  loftier  notes  his  raptured  voice  should  raise. 
And  chant  sublimer  hymns  to  his  Creator's  praise, 

*<When  rising  Phxbus  ushers  in  the  morn. 
And  golden  beams  the  impurpled  skies  adorn: 
Waked  by  the  gentle  murmur  of  the  floods, 
Or  the  soft  music  of  the  waving  woods; 
Rising  from  sleep  with  the  melodious  choir, 
To  solemn  sounds  I'd  tune  the  hallowed  lyre. 
Thy  name,    O   GOD!    should  tremble  on  ray  tongue. 
Till  every  grove  prov'd  vocal  to  my  song: 
(Delightful  task,   with  dawning  light  to  sing* 
Triumphant  hymns  to  heaven's  eternal  King.) 
Some  courteous  angel  should  my  breast  inspire, 
Attune  my  lips,    and  guide  the  warbled  w^re. 
While  sportive  echoes  catch  the  sacred  sound, 
'Swell  every  note,   and  bear  the  music  round; 
While  mazy  streams  meandering  to  the  main 
Hang  in  suspense  to  hear  the  heavenly  strain^ 
And  hush'd  in  silence,    all  the  feathered  throng, 
Attentive  listen  to  the  tuneful  song. 

< 'Father  of  Light/   exhaustles's  source  of  good  I 
Supreme,    eternal,    self-existent  God! 
Before  the  beamy  sun  dispensed  a  ray, 
Flam  d  in  the  azure  vault,    and  gave  the  day; 
Before  the  glimm'ring  moon*    with  borrowed  light. 
Shone  queen,   amid  the  silver  host  of  night. 
High  In  the  Heavens  thou  reign'dst  superior  Lord, 
By  suppliant  ungels  worshipped  and ador'd. 

7# 


78  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

With  the  celestial  choir  then  let  me  join. 

In  cheerful  praises  to  the  power  divine. 

To  sing  thy  praise,   do  thou,    O  GOD!  inspire 

\  mortal  breath  with  more  than  mortal  fire; 

In  dreadful  majesty  thou  sitt'st  enthron'd. 

With  light  encircled,   and  with  glory  crown'd; 

Through  all  infinitude  extends  thy  reign, 

For  thee,   nor  heaven,  nor  heaven   of  heaven's  contgiin. 

But  though  thy  throne  is  fix'd  above  the  sky, 

Thy  omnipresence  fills  immensity. 

Saints  rob'd  in  white,   to  thee  their  anthems  bring, 

And  radiant  martyrs  hallelujahs  sing; 

Heaven's  universal  host  their  voices  raise. 

In  one  eternal  chorus,   to  thy  praise; 

And  round  thy  awful  throne,    with  one  accord. 

Sing,    Holy,   Holy,    Holy  is  the  Lord. 

At  thy  creative  voice,   from  ancient  night, 

Sprang  smiling  beauty,  and  yon  worlds  of  light: 

Thou  spak'st — the  planetary  chorus  roll'd. 

And  all  the  expanse  was  star'd  with  beamy  gold: 

Lei  there  be  light,   said  GOD, — Light  instant  shohc, 

And  from  the  orient  burst  the  golden  sun; 

Heaven's  gazing  hierarchs,   with  glad  surprise. 

Saw  the  first  morn  invest  the  recent  skies, 

And  straight  the  exulting  troops  thy  throne  surrountdj 

W^ith  thousand  thousand  harps  of  heavenly  sound: 

Thrones,    powers,   dominions,    (ever  shining  trains!) 

Shouted  thy  praises  in  triumphant  strains: 

Great  are  thy  ivorks,   they  sing,   and,    all  around. 

Great  are  thy  ivorks,   the  echoing  heavens  resound* 

The.  effulgent  sun,    insufferably  bright, 

Is  but  a  beam  of  thy  o'erflowing  light; 

The  tempest  is  thy  breath,  the  thunder  hurl'd 

Tremendous  roars  thy  vengeance  o'er  the  world; 

Thou  bowest  the  heavens,   the  smoking  mountains  nod^, 

Rocks  fall  to  dust,   and  nature  owns  her  God; 

Pale  tyrants  shrink,   the  atheist  stands  aghast, 

Aad  impious  kings  in  horror  breathe  their  lust. 


VINDICATED.  79 

To  this  great  God  alternately  I'd  pay. 
The  evening"  anthem,   and  the  morning  lay, 

*<Fop  sovereign  gold,    I  never  would  repine. 
Nor  wish  the  glittering  dust  of  monarchs  mine. 
What  though  high  columns  heave  into  the  skies. 
Gay  ceilings  shine,   and  vaulted  arches  rise. 
Though  fretted  gold  the  sculpter'd  roof  adorn, 
The  rubies  redden,    and  the  jaspers  burn! 
Or  what,   alas!   avails  the  gay  attire, 
To  wretched  man,    who  breathes  but  to  expire! 
Oft  on  the  vilest,   riches  are  bestow'd. 
To  shew  their  meanness  in  the  sio-ht  of  God. 
High  from  a  dunghill,    see  a  Dives  rise. 
And  Titan-lJke,   insult  the  avenging  skies: 
The  crowd  in  adulation,    calls  him  Lord, 
By  thousands  courted,    flatter'd  and  ador'd. 
In  riot  plung'd,    and  drunk  with  earthly  joyg. 
No  higher  thought  his  grov'ling  soul  employs: 
The  poor  he  scourges  with  an  iron  rod, 
And  from  his  bosom  banishes  his  God. 
But  oft,   in  height  of  wealth,    and  beauty's  bloom., 
Deluded  man  is  fated  to  the  tomb! 
For,    lo!   he  sickens,  swift  his  color  flies. 
And  rising  mists  obscure  his  swimming  eyes, 
Aroundhis  bed  his  weeping  friends  bemoan. 
Extort  the  unwilling  tear,    and  wish  him  gone: 
His  sorrowing  heir  augments  the  tender  shower_, 
Deplores  his  death — yet    hails  the  dying  hour. 
Ah,  bitter  comfort!    Sad  relief,   to  die! 
Though  sunk  in  down,   beneath  the  canopy ! 
His  eyes  no  more  shall  see  the  cheerful  light, 
Weigh'd  down  by  death  in  everlasting  night: 
And  now  the  great,  the  rich,   the  proud,   the  gay^ 
Lies  breathless,    cold,   inanimated  clay! 
He,    that  just  now  was  flatter'd  by  the  crowd. 
With  high  applause,   and  acclamations  loud: 
That  steel'd  his  bosom  to  the  orphan's  cries, 
Vnd  drew  down  torrents  from  the  widow's  eycs^ 


IBj^'- 


80  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Whom  like  a  god  the  rabble  did  adore — 
Regard  him  now — and,  lo!   he  is  no  more. 

<'My  eyes  no  dazzling  vestments  should  behold, 
With  gems  instarr'd,    and  stiff  with  woven  gold; 
But  the  tall  ram  his  downy  fleece  afford. 
To  clothe,    in  modest  garb,    his  frugal  lord; 
Thus  the  great  Father  of  mankind  was  drest. 
When  shaggy  hides  compos'd  his  flowing  vest; 
Doom'd  to  the  cumb'rous  load,   for  his  ofl'ence. 
When  clothes  supply'd  the  want  ot  innocence: 
But  now  his  sons  (forgetful  whence  they  came) 
Glitter  in  gems,   and  glory  in  their  shame. 

<*Oft  would  I  wander  through  the  dewy  field. 
Where  clustering  roses  balmy  fragrance  yield j 
Or  in  lone  grots,    for  contemplation  made. 
Converse  with  angels  and  the  mighty  dead.— 
For  all  around  unnumbered  spirits  fly. 
Waft  on  the  breeze,    or  walk  the  liquid  sky. 
Inspire  the  poet  with  repeated  dreams, 
Who  gives  his  hallow'd  muse  to  sacred  themes: 
Protect  the  just,   serene  their  gloomy  hours. 
Becalm  their  slumbers,    and  refresh  their  powers^ 
Methinks  I  see  th'  immortal  beings  fly. 
And  swiftly  shoot  athwart  the  streaming  sky: 
Hark!    a  melodious  voice  I  seem  to  hear, 
And  heavenly  sounds  invade  my  listening  ear! 

<«Be  not  afraid  of  us     innoxious  band. 
Thy  cell  surrounding  by  divine  command? 
fi'er  while,    like  thee,    we  led  our  lives  below, 
(Sad  lives  of  pain,    of  misery  and  woe!) 
Long  by  afiliction's  boisterous  temptst  tost. 
We  reachM  at  length  the  ever  blissful  coast: 
Now  in  the  embow'ring  groves  and  lawns  above. 
We  taste  the  raptures  of  immortal  love, 
Attune  the  golden  harp  in  roseate  bowers. 
Or  bind  our  temples  with  utufading  flowers. 


VINDICATED;  8i 

Oft  on  kind  errands  bent,   we  cut  the  air, 

To  guard  the  righteous.   Heaven's  peculiar  care! 

Avert  impending  harms,   their  minds  compose, 

Inspire  gay  dreams,   and  prompt  their  soft  reposeT 

When  from  the  tongue  divine  hosannas  roll, 

And  sacred  rapture  swell  the  rising  soul. 

To  heaven  we  bear  thy  prayers  like  rich  perfume»-v 

Where,  by  the  throne,,  the  golden  censer  fumes: 

And  when  with  age  thy  head  is  silver'd  o'er. 

And  cold  in  death  thy  bo&om  beats  no  morca, 

Thy  soul  exulting  shall  desert  its  clay. 

And  mount,  triumphant,  to  eternal  day." 

But  to  improve  the  intellectual  mind, 

Reading  should  be  to  contemplation  join/^^d 

First  I'd  collect  from  the  Parnassian  spring. 

What  muses  dictate,    and  what  poets  sing, — 

Virgil,   as  prince,   should  wear  the  laurel'd  crowDj 

And  other  bards  pay  hamage  to  his  throne; 

The  blood  of  heroes  now  effused  so  long, 

W^ill  run  forever  purple  through  his  song. 

See!   how  he  mounts  towards  the  blest  ahodeS) 

On  planets  rides,   and  talks,  with  demi-geds! 

How  do  our  ravish'd  spirits  melt  away. 

When  in  his  song  Sicilian  shepherds  play  f 

But  what  a  splendor  strikes  the  dazzled  eye^ 

When  Dido  shines  in  awful  majesty! 

Embroider'd  purple  clad  the  Tyrian  queen. 

Her  motion  graceful,   and  august  her  mien^^  ""^^ 

A  golden  zone  her  royal  limbs  embrac'd»  %, 

A  golden  quiver  rattled  hy  her  waist 

See  her  proud  steed  majestically  prance. 

Contemn  the  trutnpet,   and  deride  the  lance! 

In  crimson  trappings,  glorious  to  behold, 

Confus'dly  gay  with  interwoven  gold! 

He  «hamps  the  bit,   and  throws  the  foam  around. 

Impatient  paws,   and  tears  the  solid  ground. 

How  stern  Mneas  thunders  through  the  field. 

With  towering  helmet,  and  refulgent  shields 


82  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Coursers  o'erturn'd,  and  mighty  warriors  slain, 
Deformed   witli  gore,    lie  welt'ring  on   the  plain. 
Struck  through   with  wounds,   ill-fated  chieftains  lie. 
Frown  e*en  in  death,   and  threaten  as  they  di^. 
Through  the  thick  squadrons  see  the  hero  bound, 
(His  helmet  flashes,    and  his  arms  resound!) 
All  grim  with  rage,   he  frowns  o'er  Turjius'  head, 
(Re-kindled  ire!    for  blooming  Pallas  dead,) 
Then,    in  his  bosom  plung'd  the  shining  blade — 
The  soul  indignant  sought  the  Stygian  shade  ■ 

«<The  far  fam'd  bards  that  grac'd  Briitania^s  Isle, 
Should  next  compose  the  venerable  pile. 
Great  Milton  first,   for  towering  thought  renown'd. 
Parent  of  son^,    and  fam'd  the  world  around! 
His  flowing  breast  divine  Urania  fir'd. 
Or  God  himself  th'  immortal  bard  inspired. 
Borne  on  triumphant  wings  he  takes  his  flight, 
Explores  all  heaven,   and  treads  the  realms  of  light 
In  martial  pomp  he  clothes  th'  angelic  train. 
While  warring  myriads  shake  the  ethereal  plain. 
His  lays  the  verdure  of  the  meads  prolong. 
And  withered  forests  blossom  in  his  song; 
First  Michael  stalks,    high  towering  o'er  the  rest, 
AVith  heavenly  plumage  nodding  on  his  crest, 
Impenetrable  arms  his  limbs  enfold. 
Eternal  adamant,   and  burning  gold! 
^^arklin^;  to  fiery  mail,    with  dire  delight, 
lleb'eUliTis  Satan  animates  the  fight: 
Arrttipotent  they  sink  in  rolling  smoke. 
All  heaven  resounding,    to  its  centre  shook, 
To  crush  his  foes,   and  quell  the  dire  alarms, 
Messiah  sparkled  in  refulgent  arms; 
In  radiant  panoply  divinely  bright. 
His  limbs  incas'd,   he  flash'd  devouring   light. 
On  burning  wheels,   o'er  heaven's  crystalline  road 
ThunderM  the  chariot  of  the  Filial  God; 
The  burning  wheels  on  golden  axles   turn'd. 
With  flaming  gems  the  golden  axles  burnM. 


VINDICATED,  pa 

I-o!  the  apostate  host,   with  terror  struck, 
Rollback  by  millions!    the  empyrean  shook! 
Sceptres,   and  orbid  shields,    and  crowns  of  gold. 
Cherubs  and  seraphs  in  confusion  roHM; 
Till  from  his  hand,   the  triple  thunder  hurl'd, 
CompellM  them  headlong,   to  the  infernal  world* 

•'Then  tuneful  Pope,   whom  all  the  nine  inspire 
With  sapphic  sweetness,   smd  pindarlc  fire. 
Father  of  verse  t    melodious  and   divine! 
Next  peerless  Milton  should  distinguished  shine. 
Smooth  flow  his  nambers  when  he  paints  the  grove^ 
Th*  enraptur'd  virgins  iist'ning  into  love. 
But  when  the  nij^rht  and  hoarse  resounding  storm, 
Rush  on  the  deep,    and  Neptuiic^s  face  deform, 
Rouirh  runs  the  verse,    the  son'roiis  numbers  roar 
Like  the  hoarse  surge  that  thunders  on  the  shore, 
But  when  he  sings  the'  exhilarated  swains, 
Th'  embowering  groves,    and   Windsor's  blissful  plains^ 
Our  eyes  are  rayish'd  with  the  sylvan  scene, 
Embroider'd  fields,    and  groves  in  living"  ^reen: 
Thames'^  silver  streams  his  flowing  verse  admire, 
A.nd  cease  to  murmur  while  he  tunes  his  lyre. 

««Next  should  apppear  great  Dryden^s  lofty  muse^ 
For  who  would  Dryden^s  poIishM  verse  refuse  > 
^^s  lips  were  moistened  in  P^arnassus"  spring. 
And  Phmbus  taught  his  laureat  son  to  sino-. 
How  long  did  Virgil  untranslated  moan. 
His  beauties  fading,    and  his  tiir^*]i  s  unknown; 
Till  Dryden  rose,   and,    in  exalted  strain, 
lie-sang  the  fortune  of  the  god-like  man! 
Again  the  Trojan  prince  with  dire  deliirht, 
Dreadful  in  arms,    demands  the  lini^'ring  fi  ^ht.- 
Ao;ain  Camilla  glows  with  martial  fire. 
Drives  armies  back,    and  makes  al^   7 Voy  retire. 
AVith  move  than  native  lustre  F^r^./ shines, 
And  gains  sublimer  heights  in  Drydcnh  lines- 


L 


Si  FiEMALE  CHARACTER 

*«The  gentle  Watts  who  strings  his  silver  lyre 
To  sacred  odes,   and  Heaven's  all  ruling  fire; 
Who  scorns  th'  applause  of  the  licentious  stao-e, 
And  mounts  yon  sparkling  worlds  with  hallow 'd  rage. 
Compels  my  thoughts  to  wing  the  heavenly  road. 
And  wafts  my  soul,    exulting,  to  my  God; 
No  fabled  iWne,    harmonious  bard!   inspire 
Thy  raptur'd  breast  with  such  seraphic  fire; 
But  prompting  Angels  warm  thy  boundless  ragCj 
Direct  thy  thou;^hts  and  animate  thy  pao-e. 
Blest  man!    for  spotless  sanctity   rever'd, 
Lov'd  by  the  good,   and  by  the  guijty  fear'd; 
Blest  man!    from  gay  delusive  scenes  remov'd^ 
Thy  Maker  loving,    by  thy  Maker  lov'd; 
To  God  thou  tun'st  thy  consecrated  Jays, 
Nor  meanly  blush  to  sing  Jehovah'^s  praise. 
O!    did,    like  thee,    each  laurel) *d  bard  delight. 
To  paint  Religion  in  her  native  light. 
Not  then  with  Plays  the  laboring  press  would  groan. 
Nor  Vice  defy  the  Pulpit  and  the  Throne; 
No  impious  rhymer  charm  a  vicious  a»c, 
J^or  prostrate  Virtue  groan  beneath  their  rage; 
But  themes  divine  in  lofty  numbers  rise, 
J^ill  the  wide  earth,   and  echo  through  the  skies. 

*<These  for  Delight; — for  Profit  I  would  re^id, 
The  labor'd  volumes  of  the  learned  dead; 
Sagacious  Locke,    by  Providence  designed 
T'  exalt,    instruct,  and  rectify  the  ipind. 
Th' unconquerable  Sage,*    whom  virtue  fir'd, 
And  from  the  tyrant's  lawless  rage  retired, 
When  victor  Caesar  freed  unhappy  Rome, 
From  Pompey^s  chains,   to  substitute  his  own. 
Longinus,  Livy^   fam'd  Thucydides, 
Quintillian,   Plato,   and  Demosthenes, 
Persuasive  Tally,   and  Corduba's  Sage,\ 
Who  fell  by  Nero^s  unrelenting  rage; 


*€ato,  aS^neca, 


VINDICATED.  85 

Him*  whom  ungrateful  Athens  doom'd  to  bleed, 
Despls'd  while  living-,    and  deplor'd  when  dead. 
RahighVd.  read  with  ever  fresh  delight. 
While  ages  past  rise  present  to  my  sight. 
Ahl  manunblest!    he  foreign  realms  explored, 
Then  fell  a  victim  to  his  country*s  sword! 
Nor  should  great  Derham  pass  neglected  by, 
Observant  sage!   to  whose  deep  piercing  eye, 
Nature^s  stupendous  works  expanded  lie. 
Nor  he,    Brittania,    thy  unmatch'd  renown! 
(Adjudg'dto  wear  the  philosophic  crown) 
AVho  on  the  solar  orb  uplifted  rode. 
And  scann'd  the  unfathomable  works  of  (?od! 
Who  bound  the  silver  planets  to  their  spheres, 
And  trac'd  th'  ecliptic  curve  of  blazing  stars!  j 
Immortal  Newton,    whose  illustrious  name 
AVill  shine  on  records  of  eternal  lame, 

**l]y  love  directed,    I  would  choose  a  wife, 
To  improve  my  bliss  and  ease  the  load  of  life. 
Hail   Wedlock!   hail,    inviolable  tie! 
Perpetual  fountain  of  domestic  joy! 
Love,    friendship,    honor,  tvuth,    and  pure  delight. 
Harmonious  mingle  in  the  nuptial  rite. 
In  Eden  first  the  holy  state  began. 
When  perfect  innocence  distinguished  man. 
The  human  pair  th'  Almighty  Pontiff  led, 
Gay  as  the  morning  to  the  bridal  bed; 
A  dread  solemnity  th'  espousals  grac'd, 
Angels  the  Witnesses  and  GOD  the  Priest! 
All  earth  exulted  on  the  nuptial  hour, 
And  voluntary  roses  deckel  the  bower! 
The  joyous  birds,    on  every  blohsom'd  spray, 
Sung  Hymenials  to  th'  important  day. 
While  Philomela  swell'd  the  spousal  song. 
And  Paradise  with  gratulations  rung. 


1. 


^Socrates, 


556  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

*<Relate,  inspiring  muse!   where  shall  I  find 
A  blooming-  virgin  with  an  angel  mind, 
Unblemish'd  as  the  white  robM  virgin  choir 
That  fed,    0  Rome.'   thy  consecrated  firej 
By  reason  aw'd,   ambitious  to  be  good. 
Averse  to  vice,    and  zealous  for  her  God' 
Kf^late,    in  what  blest  region  can  I  find 
Such  bright  perfections  in  a  female  mind' 
What  Ph(£nix-\\om2iV\  breathes  the  vital  air> 
So  greatly  good,   and  so  divinely  fair? 
Sure,    not  the  gay  and  fashionable  train, 
Licentious,   proud>  immoral,    and  profane; 
Who  spend  their  golden  hours  in  antic  dress. 
Malicious  whispers  and  inglorious  ease, — 

<<Lo!   round  the  board  a  ahining  train  appears, 
In  rosy  beauty,    and  in  prime  of  years! 
This  hates  a  flounce,    and  this  a  flounce  approves, 
This  shews  the  trophies  of  her  former  loves; 
Folly  sivcYs  that  Sylvia  drest  in  green. 
When  last  at  church  the  gaudy  nymph  was  seen; 
Chloe  condemns  her  optics,    and  will  lay 
'Tvvas  azure  satin,    interstreak'd  with  grey; 
Lucy  invested  with  judicial  power, 

Awards,    'twas  neither— and  the  strife  is  o'er. 

Then  parrots,    lap  dogs,    monkeys,    squirrels,   beaus. 
fans,   ribbands,    tuckers,    patches,   furbeloes, 
(n  quick  succession,   through  their  fancies  run. 
And  dance  incessant  on  the  flippant  tongue. 
And  when  fatigued  with  every  other  sport. 
The  belles  prepare  to  grace  the  sacred  courts 
Tfiey  marshall  all  their  forces  in  array, 
To  kill  with  glances  and  destroy  in  play. 
Two  skilful  maids  with  reverential  fear, 
In  wanton  wreaths  collect  their  silken  hair; 
Two  paint  their  cheeks,   and   round  their  temples  poir 
rhe  fragrant  unguent,   and  the  ambrosial  shower; 
One  pulls  the  shape-creating  stays,    and  one 
Knicircles  round  her  waist  the  golden  zone: 


Vindicated. 

Xot  with  more  toil  tb  im|jrove  immortal  charms, 

Strove  Juno,    Ventis^   and  the  Queen  of  arms^ 

When  Friam^s  son  adjudg'd  the  golden  prize 

To  the  resistless  beauty  of  the  skies. 

At  length  equip'd  in  love's  enticing  arms, 

With  all  that  glitters  and  with  all  that  charms, 

The  ideal  goddesses  to  church  repair, 

Peep  through  the  fan  and  mutter  o'er  a  prayer, 

Or  listen  to  the  organ's  pompous  sound. 

Or  eye  the  gilded  images  around; 

Or,   deeply  studied  in  coquettish  rules. 

Aim  wily  glances  at  unthinking  fools; 

Or  show  the  lily  hand  with  graceful  air, 

Or  wound  the  fopling  with  a  lock  of  hair; 

And  when  the  hated  discipline  is  o'er. 

And  Misses  tortured  with — Repent  no  more 

They  mount  the  pictur'd  coach,   and  to  the  play. 

The  celebrated  idols  hie  away. 

*<Notso  the  Lass  that  should  my  joys  improve, 
With  solid  friendship  and  connubial  love: 
A  native  bloom,    with  intermingled  white. 
Should  set  her  features  in  a  pleasing  light: 
Like  Helen  flushing  with  unrivall'd  charms, 
Whenraptur'd  Paris  darted  in  her  arms. 
But  what,    alas!    avails  a  ruby  cheek, 
A  downy  bosom,    or  a  snowy  neck! 
Charms  ill  supply  the  want  of  innocence. 
Nor  beauty  forms  intrinsic  excellence. 
But  in  her  breast  let  mortal  beauties  shin6, 
Supernal  grace  and  purity  divine: 
Sublime  her  reason,    and  her  native  wit 
Unstrain'd  with  pedantry  and  low  conceit; 
Her  fancy  lively,   and  her  judgment  free, 
From  female  prejudice  and  bigotry: 
Averse  to  idle  pomp,   and  outward  show. 
The  flattering  coxcomb,   and  fantastic  beau. 
The  fop's  impertinence  she  would  despise. 
Though  sorely  wounded  by  her  radiant  eyes. 


aa  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

But  pay  due  rev'rence  to  the  exalted  mind 

By  learnipg  polish'd,    and  by  wit  refin'd, 

Who  all  her  virtues,    without  guile,   commends 

And  all  her  faults  as  freely  reprehends. 

Soft  Hymeri^s  rites  her  passion  should  approve. 

And  in  her  bosom  g'low  the  flames  of  love: 

To  me  her  soul,   by  sacred  friendship,   turn, 

And  I,   for  her,    with  equal  friendship  burn; 

In  every  stage  of  life  afford  relief, 

Partake  my  joys,   and  sympathize  my  grief; 

Unshaken,    walk  in  virtue's  peaceful  road, 

Nor  bribe  her  reason  to  pursue  the  mode; 

Mild  as  the  saint  whose  errors  are  forgiven, 

Galm  as  a  vestal,   and  compos'd  as  heaven. 

This  be  the  partner,   this  the  lovely  wife 

That  should  embellish  and  prolong  my  life; 

A  nymph!    who  might  a  second  fall  inspire. 

And  fill  a  glowing  Cherub  with  desire  I 

"With  her  I'd  spend  the  pleasurable  day. 

While  fleeting  minutes  gaily  dar^o'd  away; 

With  her  I'd  walk,   delighted,    o^e?  the  green. 

Through  every  blooming  mead,   the  rural  scene. 

Or  sit  in  open  fields  damask'd  with  flowers. 

Or  where  cool  shades  embrown  the    noon-tide  bowervS, 

Imparadis'd  within  my  eager  arms, 

I'd  reign  the  happy  monarch  of  her  charms; 

Oft  on  her  panting  bosom  would  I  lay, 

And,   in  dissolving  raptures  melt  away; 

Then  lull'd,   by  nightingales,   to  balmy  rest, 

>Iy  biooming  fair  should  slumber  at  my  breast. 

<«And  when  decrepidage  (frail  mortals'  doom)' 
Should  bend  my  wither'd  body  to  the  tomb, 
No  warbling  Syre'nPs  should  retard  my  flight, 
To  heavenly  mansions  of  unclouded  light; 
Though  death,   with  his  imperial  honors  crown'd;^ 
Terrific  grin'd,    and  formidably  frown'd, 
OflPencespardon'd,    and  remitted  sin. 
Should  form  a  calm  serenity^  within 


VINDICATED.  89 

Blessing  my  natal  and  my  mortal  hour, 
(My  soul  committed  to  the  eternal  power) 
Inexorable  death  should  smile,    for  I, 
Who  knew  to  live,   would  nQver  fear  to  dik" 

The  question  still  recurs.  Why  the  degrada- 
tion of  the  female  character?  Why  are  they,  or 
a  very  great  proportion  of  them,  reduced  to  mere 
cyphers  in  the  scale  of  beings?  is  it  because  they 
are  devoid  of  those  brilliant  qualifications  tliat 
shine  so  conspicuous  in  the  sons  of  men?  By  no 
means.  Those  noble  qualifications  if  not  superi- 
or, are  at  least  equal,  in  the  female  character; 
and  nothing  but  the  poison  of  false  education,  the 
wrong  association  of  juvenile  ideas,  are  the  cause 
why  the  native  genius  and  inherent  endowments 
of  females  do  not  burst  forth  and  shine  with  reno- 
vated splendor 

We  might  deduce  a  long  deduction  of  examples, 
to  prove  the  super-excellence  of  the  female  charac- 
ter, and  that  they  have  excelled  in  many  of  the 
departments  of  civil  and  savage  society,  and  have 
eventually  proved  an  ornament  not  only  to  their 
OAvn  but  to  tlie  male  sex,  I  refer  the  reader  to 
the  many  volumes  of  female  biography,  to  prove 
my  arguments. 

Though  the  limits  of  my  plan  will  not  allow  me 
to  enlarge  much,  I  will  merely  give  a  specimen 
of  the  heroic  cliaracter  of  a  celebrated  female, 
even  in  an  early  age  of  the  world — 1  mean  Semi- 
ramis,  the  consort  ofNinus,  the  sovereign  of  the 
ancient  and  celebrated  city  of  Nineveh.  She  was 
previously  the  wife  of  one  of  his  officers,  and  dis- 
tinguished herself  so  much  by  her  heroic  exploits, 
that  the  king  not  only  married  her,  but  left  her 
his  crown  at  his  death. 

This  ambitious  princess  being  desirous,  in  her 
8^ 


!^o  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

turn  to  render  her  name  immortal,  in  a  very  few 
years  built  the  city  of  Babylon,  to  such  an  ama- 
zing extent  that  it  far  exceeded  Nineveh,  its 
walls  being  of  a  sufficient  thijkness  to  allow  six 
chariots  to  go  abreast. 

The  quays,  the  bridge  over  the  Euphrates,  the 
hanging  gardens,  the  prodigies  of  sculpture  and 
architecture,  the  temple  of  Belus,  which  had  in 
it  a  golden  statue  forty  feet  high,  though  they 
were  not  all  the  works  of  Semiramis,  yet  they 
were  much  improved  and  embellished  by  her. 

The  brevity  of  my  plan  forbids  me  to  give  a 
circumstantial  account  of  the  astonishing  magnifi- 
cence and  strength  of  Babylon;  particularly  the 
walls,  which  were  fifty  feet  wide,  200  high,  and 
50  miles  in  circumference;  and  the  temple  of  Be- 
lus, which  is  allowed  by  historians  to  be  the  same 
as  the  tower  mentioned  in  scripture,  called  Ba- 
bel. 

The  last  and  greatest  expedition  of  Semiramis 
w  as  against  India.  On  this  occasion  she  raised 
an  innumerable  army  out  of  all  the  provinces  of 
Tier  empire,  and  appointed  Bactra  for  the  rendez- 
vous. 

As  the  strength  of  the  Indians  consisted  chief- 
ly in  their  great  number  of  elephants,  this  artful 
queen  had  a  multitude  of  camels  accoutred  in  the 
form  of  elephants,  in  hopes  of  deceiving  the  ene- 
my. It  is  said,  that  Perseus,  long  after,  used 
the  same  stratagem  against  the  Romans.  But 
neither  of  them  succeeded. 

The  Indian  king  having  notice  of  her  approach, 
sent  ambassadors  to  know  who  she  was,  and  with 
what  right,  having  never  received  any  injury 
from  him,  she  came  out  of  wantonness  to  attack 
his  dominions;  adding  that  her  boldness  should 
soon  meet  with  the  punishment  it  deserved.   ^*Tell 


VINDICATED.  91 

your  master,"  replied  the  queen,  *^that  in  a  little 
time,  I  myself  will  let  him  know  who  I  am/' 

She  advanced  immediately  towards  the  river 
Indus,  from  which  the  country  takes  its  name; 
and  having  prepared  a  sufficient  number  of  boats, 
she  attempted  to  cross  it  with  her  army.  I'heir 
passage  was  a  long  time  disputed,  but  after  a 
bloody  battle,  she  put  her  enemies  to  flight.  A- 
bove  a  thousand  of  their  boats  were  sunk,  and  a- 
bout  a  hundred  thousand  of  their  men  taken  pris- 
oners. 

Encouraged  by  this  success,she  advanced  direct- 
ly into  the  country,  leaving  sixty  thousand  men 
beliind  to  guard  the  bridge  of  boats,  which  she 
had  built  over  the  river* — This  was  just  what  the 
king  desired,  who  fled  on  purpose  to  bring  her  to 
an  engagement  in  the  heart  of  his  country.  When 
he  thought  that  she  had  advanced  far  enough, 
he  faced  about,  and  a  seco  %  engagement  en- 
sued, more  bloody  than  the  lirst.  The  counter- 
feit elephants  could  not  long  sustain  the  shock  of 
the  true  ones.  These  routed  her  army,  crushing 
whatever  came  in  their  way. 

Semiramis  did  all  that  could  be  done,  to  rally 
and  encourage  her  troops;  but  in  vain.  The 
king  perceiving  her  engaged  in  the  fight,  advanc- 
ed towards  her  and  wounded  her.  The  wound 
however  did  not  prove  mortal.  The  swiftness  of 
her  horse  soon  carried  her  beyond  the  reach  of 
her  enemies. 

As  her  men  crowded  to  the  bridge,  to  repass 
the  river,  numbers  of  them  perished  by  the  disor- 
der and  confusion  unavoidable  on  such  occasions. 
When  those  that  could  save  themselves  were  safe- 
ly over,  she  destroyed  the  bridge,  and  by  that 
means  stopped  the  enemy:  the  king  likewise,  in 
obedience  to  an  oracle,  had  given  orders  to  his 


■3^  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

troops  not  to  pass  the  river,  nor  pursue  Semira- 
mis  any  farther. 

The  queen,  having  made  an  exchange  of  pris- 
oners, returned  to  her  own  dominions,  with  scarce 
one-third  of  her  army,  which,  according  to  Cte- 
sias,  consisted  of  three  hundred  tliousand  foot, 
and  fifty  thousand  horse,  besides  the  camels  and 
chariots  armed  for  war,  of  wliich  she  had  a  very 
considerable  number. 

Time  would  fail  me  to  mention  the  many  female 
characters  who  have  signalized  themselves  by 
their  ingenious,  heroic,  and  invincible  achiev- 
nients,  from  the  reign  of  this  celebrated  woman, 
to  that  of  the  empress  Catharine  of  Russian  and 
with  respect  to  philanthropy  and  munificence, 
they  unquestionably  abound  n>m*e,  far  more  a- 
mongst  the  female  than  the  male  part  of  society; 
and  with  reference  to  the  finer  feelings  which  a- 
dorn  human  nature,  if  we  candidly  consider  them 
on  an  average,  we  shall  be  obliged  to  relinquish 
the  palm  in  favor  of  women:  were  I  inclined,  I 
could,  perhaps,  trace  a  line  of  tender  feelings, 
benevolent  emotions,  in  a  direct  course,  through 
every  generation,  and  in  every  clime,  not  exclu- 
ding the  most  savage,  fi*om  Eve.  the  mother  of 
the  human  family,  to  the  members  which  com- 
pose that  intrinsic  ally  munificent  in^itution,  en- 
titled the  TFidow^s  Society,  and  exclusively  orga- 
nized by  a  number  of  respectable  ladies  of  ISew- 
York,  for  the  support  and  proiection  of  helpless 
and  disconsolate  widows  and  orphan  children. 
These  respectable  personages  I  exhibit  with  de- 
light, as  living  !r:onuments  to  illustrate  my  rea- 
soning, and  to  consolidate  my  arguments  in  fav- 
or of  the  native  excellency  of  the  female  character; 
and  while  1  admire  tl'em,  moy  the  grateful  tears 
of  the  poor  unhappy  orphan  and  widow  abundant- 


VrNDTCA'TED.  95 

ly  repay  their  lib'^rj^lity:  and  while  I  look  upon 
tiieiii  with  revrrinitial  sensatioiivS,  a^  the  friends 
of  those  whom  I  desire  to  befriend,  may  that  Al- 
mighty Sovereign  of  the  skies,  who  delights  in 
each  beneficence  that  assimilates  to  himself;  may 
he  view  them  with  such  a  smile  of  approbation  as 
not  only  to  cnrapture^hnt  snatch  their  liearts  from 
terrestrial  vicissitudes  to  celestial  delight.  In 
giving  this  small  tribute  of  respectful  eulogium 
to  a  society  that  ennobles  human  nature,  and  con- 
strains even  angels  to  smile  with  approbation, 
I  must  declare  that  I  am  actuated  by  no  sinister 
or  interested  motives.  I  have  never  scon,  and 
perhaps  never  shall  see,  an  individual  of  that  res- 
pectable and  truly  philanthropic  society,  h  1=  le 
governess  whom  I  called  upon  one  day,  iri  \V  dl 
street,  to  recommend  to  her  consideration  a  poor 
woman  I  happened  by  accident  to  see  in  the  street, 
a  stranger,  in  a  strange  place,  among  strange 
people,  all  destitute  and  forlorn.  The  sympa- 
thetic concern  which  she  testified,  and  the  solici- 
tude she  expressed,  for  the  poor  woman's  re- 
lief and  accommodation,  caused  me  to  entertain 
the  highest  degree  of  respect  and  veneration  for 
her  character;  for  I  almost  idolize  the  few  indi- 
viduals of  the  human  race,  who  are  real  friends 
to  the  poor  and  the  needy;  and.  at  the  same  time, 
to  reverse  the  idea,  I  feel  the  most  implacable  in- 
dignation, at  the  conduct  of  those  innumerable 
characters,  who  are  the  traitors  and  oppressors 
of  mankind,  and,  of  consecjuence,  the  enemies  of 
God. 

But  it  is  a  stubborn  fact,  as  lamentable  as  it  is 
authentic,  that  many  of  the  professors  of  religion 
are  criminally  deficient,  sordidly  parsimonious, 
palpable  delinquents,  with  respect  to  their  ne» 
glecting  to  sympathize  with,  and  relieve,  to  the 


94  FEMALE   CHARACTER 

utmost  extent  of  their  influence;  and  I  may  add 
finances,  the  sons  of  affliction  and  the  daughter's 
of  misfortune,  and  those  religious  devotees,  who 
can  behold,  with  dry  eyes,  their  fellow-travel- 
lers to  the  grave  enveloped  in  wretchedness,  and 
wrapped  up  in  complicated  disease,  and  not  even 
anticipate  a  particle  of  tender  emotion  and  sym- 
pathetic commisseration.  Yet  these  characters, 
who  can,  with  impunity,  forego  the  sacred  de- 
lights peculiar  to  the  philanthropist,  and  neglect 
to  fulfil  the  cardinal  duties  peculiar  to  Christiani- 
ty, would  feel  condemnation  if  they  neglected  to 
attend  a  social,  a  ceremonial,  or  a  sacramental 
meeting,  intended  for  their  personal  benefit. — 
And  these  think,  because  they  attend  hypocritic 
rites  and  penal  creeds,  that  they  will,  of  course, 
meet  the  approbation  of  the  Deity,  though  they 
neglect  the  more  important  duties  of  hospitality 
and  benevolence  to  their  brethren — I  mean  the 
progeny  of  Adam  collectively. 

This  animadversion  is  by  no  means  intended 
for  any  individual  character,  or  denomination. 
No  man  can  be  more  divested  of  party  prejudice 
than  I  am,  political  or  religious,  While  I  love 
God  supremely,  1  profess  to  love  all  men  affec- 
tionately, without  any  reference  to  sects  or  par- 
ties; these  deleterious  barriers,  which  precjude 
fraternal  love  from  flowing  from  the  centre  to  the 
circumference  of  the  earth;  and  prohibit,  with  the 
effrontery  of  a  demon,  the  social  intercourse  of 
heaven-bound  and  of  heaven-born  christians.  I 
am  sorr;^  to  be  under  the  necessity  of  asserting, 
that  in  Cliristendom  in  general,  there  seems  to 
be  an  evident  declension  in  christian  charity  a- 
mongst  many  of  the  professed  votaries  of  revealed 
religion:  a  selfish  parsimonious  disposition,  ut- 
tfjriy  repugnant  to  the  principles  of  moral  recti 


VINDICATED.  95 

tude,  as  well  as  incompatible  with,  and  not  con- 
genial to,  evangelical  religion.  Can  a  nelfisb, 
penurious  man  be  a  christian?  It  is  impossible. 
How  different  is  such  a  character  from  the  pious 
philanthropist,  whose  delight  is  to  bless,  .(were 
his  power  equal  to  his  affection,)  and  circle  the 
human  family  in  one  kind  embrace.  The  follow- 
ing parapljrase  on  a  chapter  of  scripture  will 
prove  the  validity  of  this  remark: 

A  Paraphrase  on   the   Thirteenth  Chapter  of  the 
First  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians. 

*<Did  sweeter  sounds  adorn  my  flowing"  tongue, 
Than  ever  man  pronounc'd  or  angel  sung; 
Had  I  all  knowledge,    human  and  divine, 
That  thought  can  reach,    or  science  can  define; 
And  had  I  power  to  give  that  knowledge  birth, 
In  all  the  speeches  of  the  babbling  earth: 
Did  Shadrach's  zeal  my  glowing  breast  inspire^ 
To  weary  tortures,    and  rejoice  in  fire; 
Or  had  I  faith  like  that  which  Israel  saw. 
When  Moses  gave  them  miracles  and  law: 
Yet  gracious  charity,    indulgent  guest. 
Were  not  thy  power  exerted  in  my  breast. 
Those  speeches  would  send  up  unheeded  prayeTj 
That  scorn  of  life  would  be  but  wild  despair; 
A  cymbal's  sound   were  better  than  my  voice; 
My  faith  were  form;^  my  eloquence  were  noise; 

<*Charity,   decent,    modest,    easy,   kind. 
Softens  the  high,   and  rears  the  abject  mind; 
Knows  with  just  reins,    and  gentle  hand,   to  guide 
Betwixt  vile  shame  and  arbitrary  pride, 
Not  soon  provok'd,    she  easily  forgives. 
And  much  she  suffers,   as  she  much  believes. 
Soft  peace  she  brings  wherever  she  arrives; 
^)ie  builds  our  quiet,  as  slie  forms  our  lives j 


96  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Lays  the  rough  puths  of  peevish  nature  even; 
And  opens  in  each  heart  a  little  heaven. 

«<Each  other  g-ift,    which  God  on  man  bestow^% 
Its' proper  bounds  and  due  restriction  knows; 
To  one  fix'd  purpose  dedicates  its  power. 
And  finishing' its  act,    exists  no  more. 
Thus,    in  obedience  to  what  heaven  decrees. 
Knowledge  shall  fail,    and  prophecy  shall  cease; 
But  lasting  charity's  more  ample  sway, 
Or  bound  by  time,   nor  subject  to  decay, 
In  happy  triumph  shall  forever  live. 
And  endless  good  diffuse,   and  endless  praise  receive 

<*As  through  the  artist's  intervening  glass, 
Our  eye  observes  the  distant  planets  pass;, 
A  little  we  discover;   but  allow, 
That  more  remains  unseen,   than  art  can  show; 
So  whilst  our  mind  its  knowledge  would  improve, 
(Its  feeble  eye  intent  on  things  above,) 
High  as  we  may,    we  lift  our  reason  up, 
By  faith  directed,    and  confirmed  by  hope: 
Yet  we  are  able  only  to  survey 
Dawnings  of  beams,    and  promises  of  day; 
Heaven's  fuller  effluence  mocks  our  dazzled  sight. 
Too  great  its  swiftness,   and  too  strong  its  light. 

<'But  soon  the  mediate  clouds  shall  be  dispell'd; 
The  Son  shall  soon  be  face  to  face  beheld, 
In  all  his  robes,    with  all  his  glory  on, 
Seated  sublime  on  his  meridian  throne. 

**Then  constant  faith,    and  holy  hope  shall  diCj 
One  lost  in  certainty,    and  one  in  joy: 
Whilst  thou,   more  happy  power,   fair  charity, 
Triumphant  sister,  greatest  of  the  three, 
Thy  office  and  thy  nature  still  the  same, 
Lasting  thy  lamp,    and  unconsum'd  thy  flarae^. 

Shalt  still  survive 

Shall  stand  before  the  host  of  heaven  confest., 
For  ever  blessing,   and  forever  blest. '^ 


VINDICATED.  '  97 

Another  argument  still  more  conclusive  strikes 
my  mind,  which  will  demonstrate  the  futility  and 
fallacy  of  that  man's  hopes  for  heaven,  who  is 
destitute  of  true  christian  charity,  which  alone 
can  afford  us  help  to  fulfil,  with  sacred  Joy,  the 
subsequent  address  of  the  Savior  and  Judge  of 
the  world;  which  he  lias  positively  and  emphati- 
cally declared,  he  will  apply  to  the  righteous, 
convened  at  his  august  tribunal  on  the  last  day: 
Come  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit Jhe  kingdom 
prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world: 
For  I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat:  I 
was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink:  I  was  a  stran- 
ger, and  ye  took  me  in:  J\*aked,  and  ye  clothed 
me:  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me:  I  was  in  pris- 
on,  and  ye  came  unto  me,^^  Can  any  man,  pro- 
fessor or  profane,  who  habitually  neglects  to  do 
these  good  works,  so  far  insult  common  sense, 
shut  his  eyes  against  the  light  of  reason,  and 
basely  insult  his  own  understanding,  as  to  have 
the  impudence  to  hope  or  expect,  that  God  will 
tell  a  palpable  lie  in  the  presence  of  assembled 
worlds,  in  applying  the  antecedent  address  to 
him,  when  he  in  fact,  acted  diametrically  oppo- 
site to  the  subject  matter  of  that  address?  Qr 
does  such  a  character  expect  to  go  to  heaven  af- 
ter death?  wlbich  is  virtually  expecting  tiiat  Go:l 
will  tell  a  falsehood,  to  save  a  fugitive  delinquent. 
It  is  impossible.  This  argument  is  of  itself  sulfi- 
cient  to  prove,  to  a  demonstration,  the  utility 
and  indispensable  necessity  of  social  virtue,  to 
capacitate  us  to  meet  the  approbation  of  Heaven, 
by  and  not  for  our  works  of  hospitality  and  love, 
for  after  we  have  done  all  that  is  commanded  us, 
we  are  truly  unprofitable  servants. 

My  object  is  not  to  make  this  a  theological 
work.     1  was  led  inadvertently  to  dwell  on  divi- 

9 


98  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

«ity,  by  suggesting  the  few  anterior  tliouglits  iii 
commendation  of  the  Widows^  Society  for  the  re- 
lief and  support  of  friendless  orphans;  and  Ire- 
quest,  therefore,  the  reader  to  pardon  the  digres- 
sion, which  was  not  properly  connected  with  the 
subject  of  my  investigation;  but  to  which  I  will 
return  after  introducing  the  orphan's  grateful 
prayer,  and  inscribing  it,  with  respectful  consid- 
eration, to  the  members  of  the  said  society  t» 
Avhom  it  is  addressed. 

THE    ORPHAN'S    GRATEFUL   PRAYER. 
A   POEM. 

Inscribed  to  the  JVidows^  Society  of  JSTew^York. 

Hail!    virtuous  few,   by  heaven  and  earth  approved. 
True  imitators  of  your  gracious  Lord; 
In  sacred  union  may  you  long^  agree. 
By  grace  cemented,    and  true  charity. 
Oh!  may  your  lives  be  lengthened  out  on  earth, 
And  every  day  rejoice  to  give  new  birth; 
May  mutual  love  to  mutual  good  provoke, 
A  three-fold  cord  that  never  can  be  broke; 
To  raise  the  helpless,   and  to  soothe  distress. 
To  bless  the  sick,    the  afflicted  to  redress: 
To  screen  the  orphan  from  the  threatening  blow, 
To  ease  the  widow's  heart  of  latent  woe; 
To  cheer  the  faint,   and  gently  to  reprove 
The  stubborn  heart,   by  offices  of  love. 
On  acts  like  these  our  God, looks  smiling  down. 
And  to  each  heir  holds  out  a  starry  crov/n. 
May  he  the  sacred  Monarch  of  the  skies. 
Who  heard  the  poor  unhappy  orphan's  cries; 
Oh!  may  he  hear  the  grateful  orphan's  prayer, 
And  give  you  each  celestial  crowns  to  wear. 
But  tears  of  gratitude  can  ne'r  repay, 
The  debt  of  thanks  I  owe,    nor  half  display 
Your  pity  when  you  wip'd  the  orphan's  tears  away. 


} 

ay.     J 


VINDICATED.  9S) 

To  tell  your  kindness,   or  your  love  to  paint, 
The  muse's  sweetest  notes  appear  too  faint; 
To  paint  the  tears  that  crystalliz'd  your  eye's, 
'  Or  grief  that  made  your  bosoms  heave  with    sighs. 
When  Heaven  brought  you  to  see  my  deep  distress, 
And  gave  the  heart  to  feel,    the  power  to  bless. 
Not  all  the  gems  Columbia's  sons  convey 
From  the  Ionian  through  the  Atlantic  sea, 
K'er  seera'd  so  precious  us  that  pearly  tear. 
Or  should  with  those  dear  sacred  sighs  compare. 
Tour  gifts  to  me  essential  jov  imparts, 
And  proves  the  gracious  feelings  of  your  hearts; 
Your  aid  supports  a  drooping  parent's  age. 
And  still  the  widow's  poignant  woes  assuage; 
Tour  aid  still  soothes  the  way-worn  orphan's  grief. 
And  to  her  artless  cries  still  yields  relief, 
For  you  my  prayers  to  Heaven  shall  still  be  borne. 
V"  .     J?!.'""''".^  .*''=''  '?'''l*  tf-e  golden  morn;       ' 
«"v,   wu.tuuu  mighty  sire  ofthe  ciistress'd, 
Let  our  protectors  be  forever  bless'd. 
Their  philanthropic  deeds  to  heaven  shall  rise. 
Behold,  Oh  earth!    and  view,   ye  sacred  skies. 
And  when  their  useful  happy  lives  shall  fade. 
May  hosts  of  Angels  lend  their  blissful  aid 
And  on  their  golden  wings  may  they  arise,  ' 
To  praise  the  sacred  Sovereign  ofthe  skies- 
To  hear  the  glorious  invitation  "come," 
And  to  receive  the  plaudit  of  "well  done," 
To  join  eternally  the  angelic  lays. 
And  fill  the  heaven  of  heavens  with  grateful  praise 
With  glowing  lov«  my  heart  within  me  burns, 

lZSr^''''V'^''''''   "^y  >'-rt  within  me  say^ 

B.r'dThr'rgh;v;meif  tf '''-'''"  r'-' 

Ar.^    fii         8"  your  means,   let  me  ag-ain  proclaim. 
And  still  repeat  my  grateful  thanks  ajain.  ' 

Oh     for  a  qui  1  pluck'd  from  some  angel's  wing, 
Oh!  for  z  mighty  trumpet's  voice  to  sing  ^' 

II 


lent,  l 

sn  is  lent,      J 


too  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

The  praises  of  the  immortal  Sire  above, 

IVho  movM  your  hearts  to  sympathy  and  love^ 

From  heaven's  high  arch  he  saw  and  smiPd  to  see, 

Your  finer  feeling's  exercis'd  towards  me. 

He  saw  the  tender  tears  unbidden  flow, 

He  saw  and  lov'd,    and  angels  lov'd  you  too. 

This  is  religion,    this  indeed  is  love. 

Pleasing  to  God  and  all  the  powers  above: 

To  bless  the  orphan  and  the  widow  bless. 

And  for  the  stranger  spread  the  couch  of  rest. 

By  Heaven  the  orphan  and  the  poor  are  sent 

To  try  your  hearts,  and  cause  them  to  reler 

Then  know  what  you  now  give,   to  Heaver 

God  will  repay  a  hundred  fold  and  more 

On  earth,    and  on  the  bless'd  celestial  shore; 

While  those  who  view  the  orphan's  dire  distre&s, 

Without  kind  pity  nor  their  woes  redress. 

Shall  from  their  Judge,    on  the  eternal  shore 

Receive  such  pity  as  they  gave  before; 

Professors  who  pretend  to  love  the  Lord, 

Yet  to  his  poor  no  succor  will  afford; 

Their  base  pretensions  are  impertinence. 

Hostile  to  reason  and  to  common  sense. 

In  future  years  when  reigning  with  the  just, 

And  all  your  frames  lie  mould'ring  in  the  dust; 

Then  may  your  offspring  Heaven's  true  cause  defenu 

And  future  ages  bless  the  orphan's  friend; 

With  me  may  thousands  say  with  joy  within, 

I  was  an  orphan  and  ye  took  me  inj  _ 

And  may  each  good  which  can  from  heaven  descend,     9 

Qrown  with  eternal  joy  the  orphan's  friend,  ^ 

But  it  is  not  only  in  such  works  of  benevo- 
lence, that  many  females  excel;  but  also  in  the 
departments  of  literature,  the  republic  of  letters, 
many  females  have  acted  conspicuous  parts;  have^ 
gained  the  laurel  crown;  have  acquired  celebrity,, , 
and  maintained  their  popularity  unadulterated, 


VINDICATED.  loi 

though  candor'^  obliges  me  to  observe,  that  few, 
comparatively  speaking,  have  maintained  their 
popularity  untarnished,  but  those  who  were  not 
only  ingenious,  but  also  truly  religious,  such  as 
Lady  Guion,  Mrs.  Rowe,  and  a  number  of  oth- 
ers. There  is  a  certain  degree  of  vanity  peculiar 
to  such  characters,  who  exult  in  the  majestic 
walk^  of  science.  This,  though  an  unaccounta- 
ble paradox,  is  a  stubborn  fact.  That  the  grov* 
elling  minded,  the  sordid,  the  illiterate  multitude 
should  be  conceited,  proud,  and  vain,  seems  no 
matter  of  astonishment  to  me,  as  they  know  no 
better,  they  never  recollect  what  diminutive  at- 
oms of  creation  they  are;  haughty  worms,  dying 
mortals,  probationary  intelligences.  But,  that 
the  literary,  the  philosophical,  the  scientific  sons 
and  daughters  of  men,  should  be  proud  of  their 
acquirements,  seems  matter  of  amazement.  For 
my  own  part,  the  more  I  investigate  the  book  of 
creation,  the  more  diminutive  I  appear.  I  feel 
almost  less  than  nothing,  when  I  compare  myself 
with  the  extensive,  the  wonderful  works  of  God; 
when  1  view,  with  my  mind's  eye,  the  multipli- 
city of  worlds,  in  magnitude  inconceivable,  and 
radiance  inexpressible;  that  seem,  to  the  naked 
eye,  to  spangle  the  ethereal  fields,  and  to  be  scat- 
tered through  the  milky  way;  or,  when  I,  in  ar- 
dent thought,  soar  from  this,  com])aratively  in- 
signiiicant,  terraqueous  ball,  and  tread  the  star- 
ry skies;  when  I  take  my  stand  on  the  star  that 
seems  farthest  from  us  at  present,  and  view  still 
farther,  through  the  immea3urable  fields  of  ether, 


*It  is  a  lamentable  fact  that  a  majority  of  females  who 
have    talents    for    composition,    prostitute    them  in  the 
crvice  of  the  novelist  and  romancer. 

9# 


102  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

other  stars  twinkling,  other  suns  blazing,  and 
other  moons  (or,  as  tiiey  are  philosophically  term- 
ed, satellites)  reflecting  their  borrowed  rays; 
when  I,  with  that  inquisitiveness  peculiar  to  mor- 
tals, proceed  in  my  aerial  journey,  from  star  to 
star,  from  sun  to  sun,  from  system  to  system,  with 
tlie  velocity  of  light  (and  light  flies  at  the  rate  of 
10,000,000  of  miles  in  a  minute,)  for  one  thousand 
years,  and  still  see  more  magnificent  systems 
arranged,  more  brilliant  skies  expanded,  and 
more  enormous  comets  flying  in  their  eccentric 
ecliptics;  when,  after  all  this  astonishing  intel- 
lectual flight,  I  find  by  experience,  at  the  end  of 
my  journey,  that  I  am  only  just  beginning  to  en- 
ter the  suburbs  of  creation,  and  now  only  recog- 
nize a  specimen  of  the  works  ol  the  great  Archi- 
tect of  Nature.  Could  I,  after  this  sentimental 
investigation,  this  intellectual  tour,  be  haughty, 
imperious  and  proud?  Surely  not.  But  1  should 
rather  consider  myself  merely  as  a  dimiiiutive 
particle  of  creation,  and,  in  the  language  of  true 
Immility,  self-debasement,  gra<:eful  sensations, 
and  reverential  av*e,  I  should  cry  out  with  the 
Psalmist,  ^'TV/tat  is  man  that  thou  art  mindful  of 
hwh  and  the  son  of  man  that  thou  visitest  me.^^ 

The  female  claim  to  mental  equality  is  ques- 
tioned,  and  their  reasoning  faculties  depreciated, 
not  only  by  Indians  and  infidels,  but  even  by 
christian  philosophers;  and  many  authors  of  the 
most  respectable  talents.  The  celebrated  Lava- 
ter,  the  great  physiognomist,  has  unequivocally 
asserted,  *'that  women  know  not  how  to  think) 
they  perceive,  and  can  associate  ideas,  but  can 
go  no  further.'^  How  astonishing  it  is,  that  a 
man  of  Lavater's  ingenuity  and  celebrity  could 
believe  or  assert  such  a  spurious  and  fallacious 
entiment.     Had  he  listened  to   the  captivating 


VINDICATED.  103 

brilliancy  of  the  elocution  of  Aspasia,  and  ascer- 
tained tlie  depth  of  her  philosophy:  the  powers  of 
whose  mind  struck  with  amazement  and  admira- 
tion even  the  eloquent  Pericles;  had  he  recognized 
the  sublime  Corinna,  corstending  with,  and  win- 
ning the  prize  from  tlie  famous  Pindar,  of  Thehes, 
by  her  verse;  had  iie  i>ivc8t''gated  with  oan  lor  the 
ingenious,  though  abstruse  wri rings  of  Wohton- 
croft:  had  he  been  present  in  the  councils  in 
which  queen  Elizabeth'^  presided;  and  in  which 
she  displayed  p^diti^al  ingenuity  s  iperior  to  a 
majority  of  her  preuecesssors,  and  ail  her  suc- 
cessors, he  would  undoubtedly  have  been  of  a 
different  opinion. 

Indeed  i  cannot  help  believing,  that  the  con- 
tempt for  the  mental  capacity  of  the  sex*  express- 
ed b^  many  learned  autliors,  proceeds  more  from 
w^aat  of  candid  consideration,  than  from  want  of 
literary  penetration. 

I  must  allow  that  a  village  clown,  arriving  m 
our  city  from  the  country,  and  surveying  the  em- 
ployments, the  customs,  and  fashions  of  the  sex, 
must  be  constrained  to  believe,  that  they  were 
almovst  irrational  beings;  but  were  he  candidly 
to  examine  the  biography  of  a  single  female,  dis- 
tinguished for  her  literary  acquiremefits.f  &c. 
he  would  be  inclined  to  allow,  that  the  ignorance, 
vanity,  affectation,  and  petulance  of  a  large  ma- 
jority of  the  sex,  are  the  result  of  neglect,  not 
incapacity:  the  fatal  influence  of  the  tyranny  of 


*She  was  also   a    proficient  in  the  Greek    and  Latin 
ianguag-es* 

f  At  the  chapter,    we  shall  present  oiir   readers  with 
a  list  of  cotemporary  female  genius. 


104  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

custom*  not  mental  imbecility.  They  are,  in- 
deed,  possessed  with  great  powers  and  great 
parts;  but,  alas!  they  are  neglected  and  despised, 
uhile  fashions  and  fopperies  are  encouraged  and 
countenanced.  And  why?  because,  forsooth,  it 
is  customary.  Many  fair  ones  tremble  to  launch 
into  the  ocean  of  fashion  at  tirst;  but  seeing  so 
many  tbousands  venturing  their  delicate  barks  in- 
to this  tempestuous  sea.  they  tbink  the  crime 
cannot  be  great,  and  as  for  the  danger  they  nev- 
er fear  it  till  too  late. 

Imprudence  at  a  distance  seems  nat  such, 
Tht.>   view  the  sea,    yet  dread  to  lautich,    or  touch; 
Yet  still  their  hearts  beat  h;gh  for  the  deiifrlit* 
They  wisli,  but  dread  to  plunge  where  joy.^  jnvjte. 
To  taste  they  venture  first,    and  then  r^Vre; 
The  taste  inflames, and  not  allays  desire: 
Anotljtr  taste,    and  then  a  drink  succeeds, 
From  bad  to  worse,    thus  modern  fashion  leads. 

While  so  many  improvements  are  taking. place 
in  tue  woild,  st  is  distressing  to  see  the  most  ami- 
able part  of  llic  creation  taking  a  rerrograde 
murch,  not  to  improvement,  but  to  greater  degra- 
dation. Is  it  impossible  to  break  asunder  the 
adamantine  fetr^MS,  wit)?  which  custom  has  shack- 
led tbeir  energetic  minds?  Why  is  not  tlieir 
natural  efiuality  established?  Why  is  it  that  in 
the  muUipiit  ity  of  revolutions  and  countr-revo- 
lutions  that  have  latterly  taken  ]dace  in  the  world, 
the  scientific  improvement  of  females,  lavorable 
to  ihdv  intcilectual  emancipation,  has  not  been 
ePerhHi.  Even  the  few  who  have  magnanimous- 
ly p  -s^f!  the  boundaries  of  male  usurpation, 
hnve  tr. ,  rTten  v.asted  their  illustrious  talents  in 
chimerical  and  romantic,  instead  of  beneficial 


vindicated;  105 

and  scientific  compositions.  We  have  seen  the 
works  of  women  who  were  blest  with  super-emi- 
nent qualifications  and  superlative  talents,  (but 
too  often  on  subjects  of  little  use)  clothed  in  the 
most  sublime  language. 

A  hundred  instances  might  be  adduced,  to 
show,  how  grievously  the  rights  of  women  are 
infringed:  though  they  themselves  are  not  sensi- 
ble of  it:  even  in  a  religious  point  of  view,  bow 
Bnjustly  is  the  female  mind  shackled? 

In  ancient  times,  prophetesses  as  well  as  pro- 
phets were  allowed  and  encouraged  to  preach,  or 
as  it  was  then  called  prophecy;  but  in  modern 
times,  a  holy  and  almost  seraphic  female,  the  fav- 
orite of  heaven,  and  child  of  God;  if  her  heavenly 
Father  should  move  her  by  his  spirit,  to  bear  a 
testimony  for  him  to  his  guilty  creatures,  the  cler- 
gy are  up  in  arms  and  unanimously  say  it  shall 
not  be  so.  Thus  we  see,  even  the  will  of  Heaven 
is  counteracted  by  the  tyranny  of  custom.  But 
what  makes  this  picture  ten-fold  more  degrading 
to  human  nature  and  i»«ulting  to  common  sense, 
is  the  peculiar  contrast  between  the  character  and 
conduct  of  some  ministers  and  some  of  the  con- 
gregations. Here  we  see  a  youth  sent  to  college 
with  his  two  brothers,  one  to  be  instructed  for  an 
attorney  at  law,  one  for  an  officer  in  the  army, 
and  the  other  for  a  minister  of  religion;  the  juv- 
enile preacher  learns  a  smattering  of  Latin,  how 
to  write  a  sermon;  and,  forsooth,  skips  from  the 
college  to  the  pulpit,  with  his  head  full  of  elocu- 
tion; but,  alas!  bis  heart  is  full  of  corruption: 
this  young  manufactured  parson  assumes  the  gown 
and  band  for  liberal  wages;  and  while  the  holy, 
and,  perhaps,  eloquent  female  we  have  just  de- 
picted is  compelled  to  silence;  she  is  necessitated 
to  see  this  metamorphosed  clergyman   mount  the 


106  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

rostrum  with  a  skip,  adjust  his  ministerial  ap- 
pendages, cry  hem!  and  after  reading  a  sermon, 
pel  haps  he  took  out  of  an  old  book,  he  skips  out 
of  the  pulpit  again,  and  with  a  bow,  a  polite 
whisper,  or  a  fashionable  nod  to  a  favored  miss, 
the  ludicrous,  or  1  should  rather  have  said  the 
melancholy  scene  is  closed.  The  liberality  of 
sentiiiient  manifested  by  the  Society  of  Friends,  =^ 
inth^s  resp?ct,  is  truly  admirable  and  worthy  of 
imitation;  und,  also,  the  appearance  and  appar- 
el of  tlieir  young  women.  How  amiable,  how 
modest,   aud  how  bej^rstiful ! 

When  it  is  remem!)i^red,  that  modesty  was  made 
for  woman,  and  womnn  was  made  for  modesty, 
we  niustsay,  nothing  ornaments  and  embellishes 
a  reiiiaie  more  t;icin  nnHlest  apparel  and  g,,j)rudent 
d.riieanor,  and  vice  versa,  with  immodesty  and 
im|;rudence.  Amongst  these  discrCCt  {rnmie^, 
who  ennob!«^  human  nature,  we  not  only  recog- 
nize the  fair  sex,  but  also  the  cherishing  sex,  who 
cherish  the  widow  and  orphan,  clothe  the  naked, 
and  feed  the  poor;  the  pious  sex,  who  nurture 
their  offspring  as  the  candidates  of  Heaven,  and 
as  sojourners  on  earth;  they  teach  them  to  draw 
the  sincere  milk  of  the  word  with  that  of  the  breast. 
The  pacific  sex,  who  delight  not  in  war  nor  the 
discord  ot  nations  or  societies;  the  sjmpathetic 
sex,  whose  hearts  melt  at  human  woe,  and  who 


*Vide — Barclay's  <<Apo]ogy'' — written  in  Latin,  de- 
dicated to  King  Charles  II.   pag-e  328. 

Seeing  male  and  female  are'onc  in  Christ  Jesus,  and 
that  he  hath  given  his  spirit  no  less  to  one  than  to  anotk- 
er;  when  God  moveth  by  his  spirit  in  a  woman,  we 
judge  it  no  ways  unlawful  for  her  to  preach  in  the  P.s- 
semblieB  of  God's  people,   ^c. 


VINDICATED-  107 

arc  precipitate  to  alleviate  the  sorrows  of  the  chil- 
dren of  affliction;  the  reverential  sex,  who  appear 
in  social  worship,  with  reverence  and  godi  j  iVur, 
with  becoming  modesty,  and  solemn  seriousness: 
but,  alas !  what  a  contrast  between  them  and  the 
votaries  of  fashion  in  the  house  of  God. 


} 


When  they  in  splendid  robes  to  chui'ch  repair. 

To  see,    be  seen,    and  say  a  formal  prayer; 

They  view  the  images  and  pews  around. 

Peep  throug-h  their  fans,    and  eye  the  beaus  around. 

Then  listen  to  the  anthem's  solemn  sound. 

Their  breasts  swell'd  out,   their  necks  and  elbows  bare. 

Their  eyes  half  screen'd  with   curls  of  golden  hair; 

Hence,    while  the  parson  utters  hymns  of  pra 

The  impious  fop,    with  lustful  eyes  surveys 

Their  charms  expos'd,    and  covets  still  to  gaz 

While  they  unsham'd,   against  all  sacred  rules, 

Dart  amorous  glances  at  the  amorous  fools 


:n  iiair; 
aise,  ^ 

ize.   J 


I  would  to  Heaven  this  was  only  a  poetical  fic- 
tion: alas!  alas!  it  is  too  true;  nay,  only  the 
thousandth  part  of  the  degrading  tale  is  told. 
This  degeneracy  is  owing  to  corrupt  educations, 
and  the  wrong  association  of  ideas.  For  instance, 
when  the  young  female  is  taught  to  adorn  and 
beautify  her  person  and  physiognomy,  in  order 
to  gain  admirers,  and  to  select  a  husband  from 
the  number;  she  is  of  course  mechanically  led  to 
pollute  the  house  of  God  as  well  as  the  play  house, 
(pollution  it  undoubtedly  is,)  and  it  is  more  the 
fault  of  parents  and  teachers  than  of  the  delinquent 
herself;  for  she,  no  doubt,  thinks  it  is  her  prero- 
gative to  exhibit  her  charms  at  every  j  lace  and 
opportunity  to  advantage,  according  to  tho  fash- 
ion.    Hence,  she  is  the  virtual  cause  of  virtual 


108  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

fornication,^  being  committed  in  the  church  at 
divine  service,  and — but  I  must  cease  the  deline- 
ation: the  concomitant  evils  are  too  indelicate  to 
be  named. 

Would  it  not  be  an  excellent  plan  for  some  la- 
dies of  distinction,  to  organize  an  university, 
similar  to  those  established  by  our  sex?  A  su- 
perb edifice  to  he  erected  for  the  purpose  by  sub- 
scription, which  would  testify  to  posterity  the 
philanthropy  and  in+repidity  of  its  founders  and 
patrons;  the  institution  to  be  trusted  to  female 
philosophers,  to  the  exclusion  of  our  sex.  By 
this  means  the  talents  of  females  would  be  brought 
into  a  right  channel;  works  of  utility  and  science 
'would  be  produced  to  their  own  Imnor,  interest, 
and  the  benefit  of  society. 

*When  we  remember  the  words  of  Christ,  that  he 
who  looks  upon  a  woman  to  lust  after  her,  is  guilty  of  a- 
dultery  in  his  heart;  and  the  appearances  of  the  votaries 
of  fashion,  calculated  not  only  to  connpel  the  bad  man 
to  sin  in  this  manner;  but  are  formidable  and  fiery  darts 
in  the  hands  of  Satan,  to  pierce  with  anguish,  to  entice, 
if  not  pollute  even  the  g-ood  man,  who  is,  by  nature, 
prone  to  such  evils,  I  say,  considering"  these  circum- 
stances, I  am  led  to  fear,  that  sometimes  there  is  more 
sin  committed  than  good  effected  in  the  house  of  God. 
If  parents  who  habitually  dress  their  daughters  in  such 
apparel,  as  to  be  the  instruments  of  Satan,  to  lead  oth- 
ers into  sin,  would  recollect,  that  they  are  the  auxil- 
iaries  and  emissaries  of  hell;  and  the  greatest  culprits 
in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  when  such  sins  are  committed, 
I  am  persuaded  they  would  detest  the  fashions  and  tlieir 
concomitant  evils;  and  they  are  not  only  guilty  in  this 
respect,  but  also  the  murderers  of  their  children,  when 
they  permit  them  unreproved  to  go  into  the  ways  of 
folly  in  their  youth,  for  evil  habits  grow  with  their 
growth,   and  strengthen  with  their  strength 


VINDICATED.  109 

CONTEMPORARY  FEMALE  GENIUS. 

At  no  period  of  our  history  has  female  genius 
triumphed  more  than  in  our  days.  At  the  pres- 
ent time  there  are  living  no  less  than  twenty-four 
ladies  of  pre-eminent  talents,  as  writers  in  vari- 
ous departments  of  literature  and  philosophy. 

Mrs.  Barbauldj  distinguished  during  fifty 
years,  by  her  elegant  productions  in  verse  and 
prose. 

Miss  Hannah  Moore,  for  nearly  an  equal  peri- 
od, for  various  moral  and  controversial  writings; 
not  inferior,  for  style  and  energy  of  mind,  to  any 
thing  produced  by  the  other  sex. 

Mrs.  RadcliffCf  who  as  a  novelist,  may  be 
ranked  among  the  first  geniuses  of  the  age  and 
country. 

Miss  Edgeworth,  a  distinguished  writer  of 
novels,  moral  composition,  and  works  on  educa- 
tion. 

Miss  Ctdlen,  the  amiable  and  ingenious  auth- 
oress of  Morton  and  Home,  novels  distinguished 
for  their  benevolent  sentiments,  and  spirited  com- 
positions, honorable  alike  to  her  heart  and  head. 

Mrs,  Opie,  whose  various  works  in  verse  and 
prose,  are  distinguished  for  their  originality, 
good  taste,  ingenuity,  and  elegant  composition. 

Mrs.  Inchbald^  who  as  a  dramatist  and  novel- 
ist, has  produced  various  works,  which  will  ev- 
er rank  high  among  the  classics  of  our  language. 

Miss  Hiitton,  respectable  as  a  novelist,  power- 
ful as  a  general  writer,  and  able  as  a  philoso- 
phical geographer,  as  proved  by  her  recent  works 
on  Africa. 

Miss  H.  J\L  Williams,  who,  though  long  resi- 
dent in  Paris,  may  be  claimed  as  an  English  wo- 
man, and  is  an  honor  to  the  genius  of  her  coun- 

10 


110  FEMALE    CHARACTER 

fry  women,  in  history,  politics,    eloquence  and 
poetry, 

Mrs.  Cappe,  a  lady  whose  strength  of  under- 
standing, and  power  of  diction,  have  led  her  to 
grapple  with  subjects  of  the  highest  order,  as  she 
has  published  several  works  on  theology,  educa- 
tion and  biography. 

Miss  Porter,  a  novelist  of  the  first  rank,  in 
the  powers  of  eloquent  composition;  whose  Thad- 
deus  of  Warsaw,  and  other  works,  will  long  be 
standards  of  the  language. 

Miss  Benger.  who  figures  with  equal  distinc- 
tion as  a  novelist,  historian  and  poet. 

Miss  Grants  who  has  distinguished  herself  in 
morals,  phih)sophy,  and  the  belles  lettres* 

Mrs.  Marcet,  who  has  proved  her  powers  of 
mind  in  lier  Conversations  on  Natural  Philoso- 
phy, &c.  &c, 

Mrs.  Lowry,  wlio  writes  and  lectures  with 
great  ability  on  mineralogy  and  geology. 

Miss  Owenson,  (Lady  Morgan)  whose  eloquent 
writings,  moral  and  political  reasonings,  are  not 
surpassed  by  any  author  of  her  time. 

Mrs.  Wakefield,  compiler  of  many  useful  and 
ingenious  works  for  the  use  of  children  and 
schools. 

Mrs.  Ibietsoiiy  whose  discoveries  with  the  mi- 
croscope in  the  physiology  of  plants,  rank  her 
high  among  experienced  philosophers. 

Miss  HtrschelU  \vhose  ingenuity  and  industry 
in  astronomical  observations,  have  obtained  her 
a  splendid  reputation  throughout  tlie  civilized 
world. 

Miss  Mkhh  niece  of  Mrs.  Barbauld,  who,  soar- 
ing above  productions  of  mere  taste  and  fancy, 
hks  in  her  memoirs  of  Elizabeth,  proved  her  pow 
rs  in  history  and  philosophy. 


)j/^ 


VINDICATED.  ill 

Miss  Grahaviij  the  able  writer  of  several  vol- 
times  of  travels,  which  are  distinguished  for  tlieir 
sound  philosophy  and  enlightened  views  of  socie- 
ty 

M.  D^Jlrhly^  (Miss  Burney)    whose   Evelina, 

Cecilia,  Camilla,  and  other  novels,  place  her 
among  the  first  and  most  original  writers  of  any 
age. 

Miss  iBaiWie,  whose  plays  on  the  passions,  and 
other  productions,  are  highly  esteemed  by  every 
person  of  taste. 

Besides  others  of  less  celebrity,  but  perhaps  e- 
qual  merit,  whose  names  are  not  present  to  the 
recollection  of  the  writer. 

Few  persons  till  they  behold  this  enumeration, 
will  have  suspected  that  our  days  could  boast  such 
a  galaxy  of  genius  in  the  fair  sex;  and  it  may  al- 
so be  questioned  whethei*  the  other  sex  can  pro- 
duce  a  list,  in  many  respects  of  superior  pretcn 
mons. 


f\v/^ 


0 


^^ 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Lihe  Cause  and  Consequences  resulting  to  Society  froiu 
Female  Degradation  and  incontinence  investigated. 


1  HAVE  in  the  preceding  pages,  snggested  some 
truly  momentous,    though  desultory  reflections: 
important,    though  unmethodical  sentiments:  in- 
teresting,   though    spontaneous  animadversions, 
connected  with   the   suhject  of  our  investigation. 
1  come  now  to  discuss  the  most  interesting  part 
of  my  suhject,  and  which  the  heads  of  every  fam- 
ily wUl  find  essentially  connected  with  their  in- 
terest, honor  and  prosperity.     I  would  here  ob- 
serve, thi^t  the  antecedent  and  subsequent  ani- 
mad  versions  are  by  no  means  intended  to  apply 
to  the  sex  in  general.     The  prudent  and  modest 
are  by  no  means  implicated,  none  but:  those  ob- 
scene votaries  of  fashion,  wlio  are  too  often  car- 
ried   beyond    the   bounds  of  common    decency. 
Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  speak  disrespectful- 
ly of  those  individuals  of  Adam^s  family,   who  are 
the  ornaments  of  human  nature  and  the  glory  of 
man,  especially  when  I  remember  that  my  moth- 
er, sisters,  and  my   wife,  are  women,  and  that 
the  God  of  Nature  intended  man  to  be  their  pro- 
tector and  defender.     No  person  can  be  a  more 
ardent  and  indefatigable  defender  of  the  sex  than 
I  am,  when  I  find  them  the  votaries  of  virtue, 
modesty,  and  delicate  sensibility.     And  no  man, 
perhaps,  beholds,  with  more  painful  sensations 
than  myself,  those  persons  who  arc  the  objects  of 
10=^ 


H  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

!Tiy  highest  admiration,  sacrificing  at  the  altar 
of  fashion  their  virtuous  accomplishments,  men- 
tal qualifications,  and  native  innocence,  which 
alone  can  render  them  worthy  of  our  ardent  re- 
gard and  reverential  esteem. 

There  are  many  of  the  sentimental  votaries  of 
seduction,  and  even  itinerant  lihertines,  who  will, 
with  the  effrontery  of  a  demon,  attempt  to  ap- 
plaud and  vindicate  the  cause  of  females,  who  ri- 
ot in  the  unrestrained  licentiousness  of  their  wan- 
ton desftes,  at  the  expense  of  modesty  and  virtue; 
who  have  sacrificed  their  honor  to  the  gross  pleas- 
ures of  sense,  and  these  libertines  will  make  no 
distinction  between  tlie  virtuous  and  the  vile,  the 
innocent  and  the  jewd;  they  cannot,  or  rather 
w  ill  not,  ascertaj^n  the  infinite  superiority  and  in- 
trinsic excellem^y  of  a  virtuous  woman,  that  a 
man  of  sense  and  honor,  would  delight  to  take  as 
the  protector  of  his  interest,  the  repository  of  his 
secrets,  th^cabinet  of  his  earthly  riches,  the  sol- 
ace of  his  sorrows,  the  darling  of  his  bosom,  the 
admired  companion  of  his  whole  life,  and  the 
another  of  his  sweet  babes;  the  little  cherubs  whose 
infantile  smiles  and  artless  prattle,  render,  in 
one  moment,  more  real  and  refined  delight,  than 
years  sacrificed  in  the  pursuit  of  sordid  pleasures 
and  voluptuous  gratifications.  However,  with 
men  of  sense  and  discernment,  the  adulation  of 
these  hypocritical  calumniators  (who  would,,  per- 
haps, be  inclined  to  censure  me  for  my  candid 
boldness,  in  thus  admonishing  the  votaries  eJf 
sensuality,)  will  be  treated  with  contemptuous 
disgust,  and  well  deserved  execration. 

In  attempting  to  investigate  the  cause  of  female 
degradation,  my  mind  is  led  imperceptibly  to  con- 
template the  miserable  state  of  millions  af  poor 
unhappy  females,  who,  at  this  very  moment,  are 


VINDICATED.  115 

ih^  victims  of  the  avarice,  and  consequently  the 
promiscuous  lust  of  the  traitors  and  tyrants  of 
mankind;  I  mean  the  exiled  daugi}ter-:j  of  the  A- 
frican  race,  from  whose  chains  death  alone  is  ex- 
pected to  relieve  them. 

O,   death!   the  negro's  welcome  friend. 

'*The  dearest  and  the  best,*^ 
How  joyful'is  the  hour  you  bring' 

The  weary  slave  to  rest. 

When  from  the  cruel  tyrant's  grasp, 

By  friendly  death  he's  torn; 
To  taste  the  blest  relief  of  those, 

Who  cease  on  earth  to  mourn. 

His  tyrant,   though  he  seems  thus  vain. 

In  fortune's  lap  carest; 
Vet  think  not  while  he  seems  thus  great. 

That  he  is  trufy  blest. 

The  thought,  he'll  sooi>  be  food  for  worms. 

From  all  his  pleasures  torn; 
Blasts  ev^ry  op'ning  bud  t>f  joy. 

And  makes  the  tyrant  mourn. 


To  persons  who  have  perused  my  antecedent 
publications,  it  will  not,  perhaps,  be  necessary 
to  say,  that  the  cause  of  those  abject  victims  of 
legal  barbarity,  is,  and  ever  will  be  uppermost 
in  my  mind:  the  circumstance  of  my  witnessing 
so  much  cruelty  exercised  towards  them  during 
my  voyages  to  Africa,  and  several  of  the  West 
India  Islands,  has  made  such  an  impression  on 
my  mind,  as  time  can  never  erase,  nor  mortal 
eloquence  depict.  I  need  not,  in  this  place,  re- 
capitulate tl]e  unparallelled  suiferings  of  these 
wretched  victims  of  our  avaiice;  this  Ihate^^l- 


116  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

ready  done  in  my  other  performances,  to  the  bes^ 
of  my  poor  abilities.  Suffice  it  to  say:  The  sou 
and  sire  are  daily  and  hourly  tormented  by  their 
cruel  task  masters,  who  force  them  to  undergo 
extremity  of  toil  and  hardship:  to  forego  not  only 
the  comforts,  but  even  the  necessaries  of  life. 
While  they  endure  severity  of  toil,  they  receive 
only  penury  of  food;  and,  to  aggravate  their 
miserable  doom,  they  are  forced,  with  w^eeping 
eyes  and  agonizing  hearts,  to  see  their  wives  and 
daughters,  not  only  the  victims  of  the  avarice, 
but  subjected  to  the  promiscuous  lust  of  their  op- 
pressors. 

*«Ah!   how  can  he  whose  daily  lot  is  grief*^ 
Whose  mind  is  vilified  beneath  the  rod; 
Suppose  his  Maker  has  for  him  relief^ 
Can  he  believe  the  tongues  that  speak  of  God»^ 

For  when  he  sees  the  female  of  his  heart, 
And  his  lov'd  daughters  torn  by  lust  away: 
His  sons  the  poor  inheritors  of  smkrt. 
Had  he  religion,    think  ye  he  could  pray. 

E'en  at  this  moment  on  the  burning  gale. 
Floats  the  weak  wailing  of  the  female  tongue,- 
And  can  that  sex's  softness  nought  avail? 
Must  feeble  women  shriek  amid  the  throng' 

Haste,  haste  ye  winds  on  swifter  pinions  fly. 
Ere  from  this  world  of  misery  they  go; 
Tell  them  their  wrongs  bedew  a  nation's  eye. 
Tell  them  Columbia  blushes  for  their  woe.* 


*As  an  apology  for  introducing  this  matter,  which 
some  will  consider  as  not  strictly  connected  witli  my 
subject,   I  would  affirm  it  as  my  solemn  belief,  that  the 


VINDICATED,  117 

An  individual  ruffian,  that  is  t1\e  owner  of  an 
estate  of  200  slaves,  appropriates  all  the  young 
females  for  his  seraglio;  there  is,    of  course,  a 
motly  race  of  half  white  and  half  black  children^ 
produced  by  the  owner,  yet  not  considered  as  le- 
gitimate; they  are,  of  course,  continued  as  slaves; 
hence    these    promiscuously    begotten   children, 
when  arrived  at  the  years  of  maturity,  being  ig- 
norant of  their  progenitors,  promiscuously  and 
unwittingly  commit  incest,  with   all  its  beastly 
concomitants;  but  I   must  cease  delineating  this 
truly   degrading  picture  of  human  depravity,  as 
being  too  shocking  for  the  ear  of  delicacy  to  hear, 
the  eye  of  philanthropy  to  view,  or  the  heart  of 
humanity  to  recognize.     But  I  would  beg  leave 
to  make  a  short  digression,  in  order  to  suggest 
a  few  of  the  effects  produced  by  this  deleterious 
cause:  and,  first,  the  human  nature,  is  degraded 
to  the  brutal  for  the  pleasure  of  the  voluptuous 
epicure;  the  laws  of  nature  are  inverted,  though 
Bot  the  laws  of  grace:  for  while  the  tyrant  is 
chaining  the  mangled  limbs  and  lacerated  bodies 
of  his  slaves,  their  souls,  perhaps,  are,  at  the 
self-same  moment,  holding  sweet  converse  with 
God. 

The  foundation  of  civil  liberty  and  social  vir- 
tue is  shaken  to  maintain  the  superiority  of  dem- 
ons in  human  form.  I  will  prove  the  validity  of 
this  assertion,  by  exhibiting  the  premature  fate 


4;ruelty  of  Americans  to  the  African  race,  will  sooner 
or  later  brings  the  vengeance  of  Heaven  upon  our  coun- 
try. Hence,  I  feel  it  my  indispensable  duty,  to  warn, 
faithfully  and  affectionately,  my  unthinking  fellowci- 
i^izens,  on  every  opportunity,  without  regarding  formali? 
ty,     *<Ti9  conscience  calls,  and  conscience  I  pbev,'^ 


118  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

of  Hayti,*  which  presents  itself  at  once  to  prove 
to  a  demonstration  the  force  of  my  hypothesis. 
The  thousands  of  white  planters,  who,  some  few 
years  ago,  were  scourging,  with  unrelenting  cru- 
elty, the  exiled  sons  of  Africa,  in  that  unhappy 
country,  have  been  cruelly  massacred  by  the  same 
exiled  and  exasperated  Africans.     Only  700,  out 


*Hayti  or  St.  Doming'o,  one  of  the  largest  and  most 
fertile  of  the  West  India  islands,  extending  in  length, 
from  E.  to  W.  390  miles,  and  in  breadth  from  60  to  150^ 
situated  between  Jamaica  and  Cuba  on  the  west,  and 
Porto  Rico  on  the  east. 

The  country  is  diversified  with  extensive  plains  and 
elevated  mountains,  and  has  a  great  variety  of  soil,  but 
for  the  most  part  very  fertile,  consisting  of  a  rich  clay, 
in  some  places  mixed  with  light  gravel  lying  on  a  sub- 
stratum of  rock — it  is  well  watered — full  of  woods — 
contains  mines  of  iron  and  silver. 

The  famous  decree  of  the  French  National  Conven- 
tion, that,  *'a//  men  are  horn  equal  and  free ,*'  led  to  the 
revolution  in  St.  Domingo.  Contests  arose  between 
the  white  and  free  people  of  color,  when  they  were 
overwhelmed  by  their  common  enemy,  the  slaves,  who, 
in  August  1791,  rose  against  their  masters  by  common 
consent,  and  rendered  the  whole  French  part  of  the 
island  a  scene  of  massacre  and  devastation.  , 

The  island  was  taken  possession  of  by  a  British  force 
in  1793,  but  they  were  compelled  to  evacuate  it  in  1798, 
and  the  inde4>^ndence  of  St.  Domingo  was  declared  on 
the  1st  of  July,  1801.  It  was  afterwards  divided  be- 
tween two  chiefs,  Christophe  ruling  over  the  northern 
part,  his  capital  being  Cape  Francois;  and  Petion  rul- 
ing the  southern  districts.  These  chiefs  are  both  dead, 
and  the  parts  of  the  island  are  now  united  under  Pres- 
ident Boyer — Ppi^-au-Prince  is  the  present  seat  of  gov- 
ernment* 


VINDICATED.  119 

of  several  thousand,  were  spared  for  a  time,  and 
afterwards  were  butchered  by  order  of  Dessa- 
lines,  except  a  few  artificers  retained  for  local 
purposes . 

Can  any  impartial  man  take  the  most  superfi- 
cial view  of  that  devoted  country,  and  not  ac- 
knowledge that  it  is  intended  by  the  Almiglity  as 
an  example  and  warning  to  the  other  tyrannical 
nations  of  Christendom  r  But,  I  would  ask,  who 
takes  the  tragical  warning?  Is  it  t\\^  republi- 
cans of  America?  No;  they  rivet,  instead  ot 
breaking  asunder  the  manacles  of  slavery.^  In- 
stead of  obviating  they  consolidate  its  influence.': — 
Witness  the  thousands  of  slaves  imported  into 
anS  from  thence  scattered  through  the  different 
states.  Yet  the  fate  of  Hayti  proves,  that  these 
are  mortal  enemies  to  the  public  weal,  and  are 
continually  gnawing  the  vitals  of  the  body  politic 
But  I  anticipate  the  answer  which  the  citizens  of 
the  northern  states  will  make  to  the  above  asser- 
tion; namely,  that  the  Africans  in  our  states  are 
treated  with  such  mildness  and  generosity*  that 
they  would,  in  case  of  intestine  commotion  or 
foreign  invasion,  be  the  defenders  and  not  the 
destroyers  of  their  benefactors.     Such  a  supposi- 


*Slavery  was  a  part  of  the  civil  constitution  of  most 
countries  when  Christianity  appeared;  yet  no  passage 
is  to  be  found  in  fhe  Christian  scriptures  by  which  it  is 
condemned  or  prohibited.  This  is  true:  for  Christian- 
ity, soliciting  admission  into  all  nations  of  the  world, 
abstained,  as  behoved  it,  from  intermeddling  with  civ- 
il institutions  of  any  kind.  But  does  it  follow,  trotn 
the  silence  of  scripture  concerning  them,  *that  all  the 
civil  Institutions  which  then  prevailed  were  right  ^  or 
that  tlie  bad  should  not  be  exchanged  for  better^ — Vi- 
'^-  Faiey's  Mor.  Phil.  on'^Slavery.  Book  III.  Chap.  iii. 


IB 


120  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

tion  i$the  first-born  of  absurdities.  Can  the  mo- 
ther forget  her  suckling  child  ?  No  more  can  the 
sons  of  Africa,  in  what  part  of  the  world,  or  in 
whatever  situation  they  maybe,  forget  the  suffer- 
ings they  have,  in  conjunction  with  their  ances- 
tors, endured  from  the  hands  of  the  cruel  and  a- 
varicious  whites.  The  fact  is,  they  would  be 
worse  than  the  worst  of  traitors,  if  tHey  did  not 
espouse  the  cause  of  their  degraded  countrymen. 
But  facts  step  forward  to  prove  the  solidity  of 
my  arguments;  and,  of  course,  render  specula- 
tive reasoning  unnecessary.  Great  numbers  of 
blacks  and  mulattoes,  on  the  commencement  of 
intestine  commotion  in  Cape  Francois,  when^he 
flames  of  rebellion  were  kindling,  who  were  both 
comfortably  and  respectably  situated  among  the 
whites;  who,  notwithstanding,  on  the  commence- 
ment of  hostilities,  were  the  greatest  enemies 
they  had  to  encounter.  And  this  must  be  the  fate 
of  America  at  a  future  period.  Unless  we  forego 
the  cause,  the  effects  will  undoubtedly  be  the 
same. 

At  a  former  period,  the  citizens  of  America 
were  enabled,  by  Divine  assistance,  to  conquer 
their  enemies  and  consolidate  their  liberties.  But 
can  we  have  the  assurance  to  ask,  or  the  impu- 
dence to  expect.  Divine  assistance,  in  attempting 
to  vindicate  our  national  honor,  by  endeavoring 
to  reorganize  our  federal  government,  on  Ihe  e- 
ventof  intestine  commotion  and  foreign  invasion, 
a  million  of  infuriated  Africans  in  the  bowels  of 
our  country,  and  an  army  of  veterans  on  our  fron- 
tiers? Surely  not.  The  moment  we  are  robbing 
others  of  their  liberty,  can  we  ask  or  expect  God 
tjo  secure  our  own?  It  is  impossible.  It  would  be 
blasphemy  against tbejrectitudc  of  heaven  to  ask, 
and  an  insult  to  its  Sovereign,  to  expect  such  a 


VINDICATED.  121 


thing.  Conversing  with  my  next  door  neighbor, 
respecting  the  cause  why  so  many  children  were 
not  only  disobedient  and  refractory,  in  their  mi- 
nority, but  even  a  curse  to  their  parents  when 
arrived  at  the  years  of  maturity,  she  very  judi- 
ciously asserted,  that  the  radical  cause  was  their 
giving  their  children  their  own  way,  and  letting 
their  self-will  be  unrestrained,  while  young. 
When  they  grow  older,  their  wills  become  so  in- 
vincibly stubborn,  that  they  are  unconquerable; 
and  that  those  parents,  who  were  thus  neglectful^ 
generally  felt  the  consequences  of  their  credulity 
and  impolicy.  In  proof  of  which,  she  adverted 
t^  another  neighbor,  who  was  more  than  once 
cruelly  beaten  by  her  son,  till  she  was  black  and 
blue;  and,  at  the  same  time,  contrasted  the  case 
of  this  undutiful  son  with  her  own  children,  six 
of  whom  were  married,  and  most. of  them  had 
children.  Yet  they  were  as  submissive,  dutiful, 
and  affectionate  as  when  they  were  in  a  state  of 
minority;  and  that  they  had  always  continued  in 
the  same  state.  Indeed,  I  took  notice  several 
times  myself  of  the  social  intercourse  and  affec- 
tionate regard  existing  between  her  and  her  chil- 
dren, the  youngest  of  whom  is  now  nineteen  years 
of  age,  and  none  of  them,  though  persons  of  res- 
pectability, will  undertake,  even  now,  any  bus- 
iness, or  enter  upon  any  important  pursuit,  with- 
out first  askiftg  her  advice,  and  gaining  her  con- 
sent. I  asked  her  how  she  attained  the  happy, 
the  heavenly  art,  of  thus  bringing  up,  and  not 
only  gaining,  but  keeping  the  affections  of  her 
children?  She  said,  her  primary  object,  with 
respect  to  her  children,  w  as,  from  their  infancy, 
to  break  their  wills.  To  begin  at  one  year  old, 
and  let  them  know  that  her  word  was  a  law,  and 
that  her  will  shouW  not  be  disputed  with  impum- 


ISS  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

ty.  The  infants,  having  these  elementary  prin- 
ciples of  submission  instilled  into  their  minds,  o- 
bedience became  natural  to  them.  T'hey  scarce- 
ly ever  deserved  or  received  a  whipping.  The 
cause  being  taken  away  at  first,  the  effect  ceased. 
Hence  her  children  have  been,  and,  to  my  cer- 
tain knowledge,  are  a  blessing  to  her;  and  she 
has  nurtured  ten,  and  raised  seven,  with  more 
facility,  with  more  ease  and  pleasure,  than  oth- 
er parents  have  raised  one;  though  a  widow  for 
sixteen  years.  This  is  a  lesson  better  than  vol- 
umes of  metaphysical  reasoning  and  philosophical 
disquisitions  on  education.  The  sentiments  are 
familiar  to  the  most  illiterate,  and  which  I  h^e 
endeavored  to  simplify.  Ye  injudicious  parents, 
whose  children  are  an  intolerable  burden,  if  you 
want  to  learn  the  sacred  art  of  gaining  happiness 
for  yourselves  and  for  them,  view  this  woman  as 
in  a  looking  glass,  and  see  tlie  way  to  gain  this 
happy  end.  By  indulging  your  children,  you 
make  yourselves  infinite  trouble,  and  give  them 
infinite  pain,  both  here  and  hereafter;  in  this 
world  and  that  which  is  to  come.  You  are  in 
short,  raising  them  up  to  be  your  tormentors, 
tlieir  own  murderers,  and  enemies  of  the  state. 
I  would  illustrate  this  assertion  by  a  circumstance 
that  took  place  yesterday.  Walking  past  the 
court  house,  I  stept  in,  for  a  few  moments,  to 
hear  the  trials  then  under  discussion;  and,  to  my 
no  small  surprise,  I  saw  and  heard  an  old  wom« 
man,  bending  with  age,  give  testimony  against 
her  undutiful  son,  who  had  robbed  her  of  her 
house  and  property  (by  getting  a  false  deed  mad€ 
in  his  own  name)  the  only  support  of  her  old  age, 
and  afterwards  turning  her  out  of  doors,  to  seek 
refuge  in  the  public  bounty. 
It  is  now  past  tweive  o'clock  at  night:  the  s(* 


VINDICATED.  125 

leninity  of  the  time,  connected  with  the  singula- 
rity of  the  above  adventure,  causes  a  train  of 
spontaneous  and  momentous  reflections  to  strike 
my  mind.  How  many  parents,  now  wrapped  in 
the  close  embraces  of  slumber,  circle  in  their 
arms  the  children  who  one  day  will  bring  their 
grey  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave,  and  yet,  a- 
las!  these  same  parents  perhaps  will  peruse  and 
approve  of  these  sentiments  respecting  their  chil- 
dren, but  will  not  take  one  step  in  reforming  the 
abuses  thetr  neglect  has,  and  perhaps  will  still 
produce.  If  such  persons  suffer  for  their  credul- 
ity and  imbecility,  their  sufferings  are  the  just 
fruit  of  their  foll^  and  neglect,  but,  alas!  their 
ruined,  contaminated,  unconscious  offspring,  al- 
so suffer  loss,  the  floods  of  destruction  are  pour- 
ed upon  them  by  the  impetuosity,  the  invincibili- 
ty, and  virulence  of  their  unbridled  passions  and 
unrestrained  desires,  which,  like  the  river  Nile^ 
whose  source  is  a  small  spring  or  rivulet,  but 
which  ends  in  a  mighty  river  that  is  supplied  by 
supernumerary  streams  and  winding  lakes,  which 
all  unite  to  augment  the  magnitude,  and  stimu- 
late the  impetuosity  of  this  amazing  river,  till  it 
empties  itself  into  the  boundless  ocean:  thus  the 
little  unconscious  prattling  infant's  desires  and 
passions  are  suffered  to  run  unrestrained,  at  first 
indeed  diminutive,  but  accumulating  by  degrees 
from  bad  to  Avorse,  as  from  youth  to  age,  aug- 
mented by  itinerant  vicissitudes,  local  circum- 
stances, and  relative  situations  in  life,  till  we 
see  the  sullen  infant  metamorphosed  to  a  potent 
demagogue,  a  vindictive  despot,  wliose  mandate 
makes  legions,  armed  with  power  and  pride, 
march  majestically  fierce,  at  whose  approach 
nations  tremble,  or,  nod  to  their  fall,  and  to  gra- 
tify whose  will,  thousands  of  human  brings  must 


1^4  FEMALE  CHARACtER 

be  sacrificed  at  the  shrine  of  imj^rial  authority* 
I'his  is  a  degrading  but  a  true  picture  of  the  pre« 
sent  state  of  civilized  as  well  as  savage  nations, 
for  turn  our  eyes  which  ever  way  we  will,  we  see 
violence  and  oppression  prevail,  produced  by  ma- 
ternal indulgence  and  paternal  neglect.  Though 
I  am  unequivocally  prejudiced  against  elaborate 
and  refined  composition  and  literary  embellish- 
ment  in  discussing  a  subject  of  this  nature,  and 
therefore  endeavor  to  avoid  all  unnecessary  am- 
plification; yet,  as  a  reference  to  facts  is  the  only 
way  to  render  argument  by  theory  unnecessary, 
the  elucidation  of  the  subject  requires  some  de- 
gree of  systematical  arrangement  and  connection; 
though  a  profusion  of  imagery  is  apt  to  distract 
the  reader*s  attention,  and  hring  it  into  a  wrong 
channel^  yet  some  portion  is  necessary  to  njain- 
tain  a  chain  of  reasoning,  anil  make  the  mind  re- 
cognize the  connecting  links  in  that  chain.  Alas! 
how  many  truly  valuable  and  intrinsically  mo- 
mentous as  well  as  scientific  performances  onthi^ 
useful  subject,  are  perfectly  useless  to  all  out  phi- 
losophical readers,  on  account  of  extraneous  mat- 
ter connected  with  the  ^^rubbish  of  hypothesis.^* 

I  would  ask  from  whence  do  the  savages  of  our 
own  continent  receive  that  invincible  composure, 
that  unconquerable  patience  in  the  midst  of  the 
greatest  agonies  and  hodily  tortures;  when  their 
enemies  burn  them  by  a  slow  fire,  beginning  at 
their  feet,  and  thus  consume  their  whole  bodies. 
While  they  exult  and  triumph  in  the  midst  of  their 
pain,  and  deride  and  defy  their  foes,  and  even  so- 
licit them  to  augment  their  torments;  and  thus 
expire  without  a  single  murmur  or  complaint:  it 
is  the  force  of  example  connected  with  precept 
which  endues  them  with  such  stubborn  magna-* 
Bimity.     The  young  Indian  is  taught  by  his  par- 


VINDICATED.  it5 

ftnts  to  consider  flindiing  and  betraying  signs  of 
terror  in  the  moments  of  danger  or  death,  as  the 
most  detestable  cowardice,  the  most  disgraceful, 
and  at  the  same  time,  the  most  humiliating  pic- 
ture of  a  w  retch  unfit  to  live  on  earth,  and  asso- 
ciate with  mortals,  or  to  be  received  into  the  am- 
brosial habitation  of  their  patriotic  ancestors  af- 
ter deatli.  The  children  even  take  a  pleasure  in 
putting  lighted  coals  of  fire  on  their  bodies  by 
way  of  experiment,  to  ascertain  who  has  the  most 
courage: — in  the  same  manner  children  might, 
if  begun  with  in  time,  be  taught  to  abhor  vice 
and  admire  virtue. 

Education,  if  properly  directed,  may  not  only 
subdue  wayward  appetite,  conquer  the  feelings 
of  nature,  subjugate  hereditary  depravity,  but 
even  aniiihilate  physical  sensations.  In  the  same 
manner  might  sentiments  be  inculcated,  and 
practi  es  exhibited  to  the  indiscriminate  inspec- 
tion of  young  females,  that  might  impress  their 
minds  with  such  invincible  disgust  at  t^e  pros-^ 
pects  of  certain  fashionable  crimes,  that  they 
would  hold  tliem  in  the  greatest  abhorrence  to 
the  period  of  their  dissolution;  and  the  same  might 
be  said,  with  great  propriety,  of  other  vices. 

By  pursuing  the  idea,  we  may  ascertain  the 
most  eligible  metliod  to  call  the  juvenile  mind, 
not  only   to   investigate   and  admire,  but  even 

i practice  and  participate  social  virtue,  particu- 
arly  that  of  benevolence;  for  instance,  when  the 
child  is  attempting  to  kill  a  fly,  or  any  other  in- 
sect, by  appearing  to  pity  and  sympathize  for 
the  sufferings  of  the  fly,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
showing  that  cruelty  is  wrong  and  displeasing  to 
God.  By  inculcating  such  sentiments,  the  child 
may  be  led  to  feel  mercy,  and  show  clemency  to 
all  the  animal  creation.  I  caii  also  assert  from 
11# 


126  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

my  own  experience,  that  sentimental  love  to  God 
may  be  begotten,  by  representing  the  Almighty 
as  a  good  and  gracious  being;  as  the  father  of  the 
human  family;  that  wills  the  good  of  all,  and  the 
harm  of  none  of  his  children;  and  to  reverse  the- 
idea,  the  malevolent  passions  may  be  engender- 
ed by  an  opposite  line  of  conduct  in  parents  and 
teachers,  which  unhappily  is  too  often  the  case. 
But  some  persons  will  be  ready  to  deny  the  above 
supposition,  respecting  children  being  early  im- 
pressed with  a  sense  of  the  love  of  God,  and  will 
bring  forward  the  cases  of  many  children,  of  ex- 
emplary pious  parents,  who  aie,  notwithstanding, 
the  most  zealous  votaries  of  infidelity,  and  cham- 
pions of  dissipation,  though  they  received  a  truly 
religious  education,  and  had  the  most  upright 
sentiments  inculcated  upon  their  minds,  by  pa- 
ternal solicitude  and  assiduity«  All  I  can  say  in 
contradiction  to  this  sentiment  is,  that  too  many 
good  men  use  the  most  injudicious  means  to  make 
their  children  such.  First,  the  nurse  begins  with 
the  infant  almost  as  soon  as  he  can  lisp,  to  terri- 
fy him  with  the  idea  of  a  superior  being,  that  will 
l^unish  with  vindictiveness.  His  heavenly  par- 
ent, by  such  imprudent  nurses,  is  metamorphose 
ed  to  a  raw  head  and  bloody  bones,  or  to  a  hob- 
goblin, or  some  other  phantom  of  the  brain,  to 
inghten  the  child  to  sleep:  thus  a  foundation  is 
laid  at  the  most  important  period  of  life,  for  the 
most  invincible  prejudices,  the  most  unconquera- 
ble superstitions  to  be  built  upon.  Aversion  and 
terror  are  engendered,  while  love  and  trnderness 
ure  annihilated;  that  love  which  can  be  implant- 
ed, 1  had  almost  said  sooner  than  any  other  pas- 
sion, for  daily  experience  proves  that  it  is  gmer- 
ally  the  easiest  thing  in  life,  to  gain  the  aScition 
oi  a  cliild  by  acts  of  love  and  tenderiie.s^)  whilc^f 


riNDICATElX  m 

on  the  other  hand,  hy  hardness  and  moroseness, 
we  as  easily  imbibe  in  thorn  hatred  and  disgust; 
and  perhaps,  at  the  same  time,  a  manner  of  fear 
and  terror. 

It  therefore  appears  evident,  that  the  only  way 
to  induce  them  to  place  their  juvenile  affection  on 
the  Deity,  is  by  exhibiting  him  as  their  friend, 
net  as  their  enemy;  as  one  that  loves  them  su- 
premely, and  not  as  one  that  will  punish  them  in- 
exorably. But  it  is  not  only  by  nurses,  but  alsq 
by  parents  truly  religious,  and  even  ministers  of 
religion,  that  sentiments  have  been  depictured  in 
children's  minds,  that  have  a  direct  tendency  to 
connect  gloom  and  horror  with  religion,  restraint 
and  infelicity  with  godliness:  hence  these  prema- 
ture insinuations  beget  a  secret  disgust  and  detes- 
tation, and  when  the  rein^i  of  paternal  restraint 
are  loosened,  the  juvenile  prisoner  precipitates 
into  the  forbidden  iields  of  pleasure  and  sensuali- 
ty. Like  the  young  foal  that  rushes  into  the  fields 
when  the  stable  door  is  opened,  he  skips  about 
every  bush,  he  crops  the  verdant  green,  uncon- 
scious of  his  danger:  whenlo!  a  lion  precipitately 
across  the  lawn,  and  rends  the  panting  victim, 
while  the  atmosphej»e  reverberates  with  his  hollow 
groans.  Thus  they  continue  to  gratify  their  un- 
hallowed passions,  till  death,  in  conjunction  with 
complicated  disease,  destroys  the  volatile  wan- 
derer in  the  interdicted  fields  of  pleasure.  Were 
children  impressed  with  a  sense  of  the  native  cle- 
mency of  God  from  their  youth,  with  diligence 
and  perseverance,  and  the  idea  of  punishment  and 
future  woes,  n.>t  to  bo  connected  with  religion, 
at  least,  not  till  they  could  associate  the  ideas  of 
God's  justice  and  goodness  together — the  effects, 
I  am  morally  CTiain,  would  be  salutary:  divine 
love  would  be  begotten  in  infancy,  and  would  ac« 


i£8  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

cumulate,  from  youth  to  age,  strength  and  influ* 
encc  in  the  juvenile  mind,  which  wouhl  be,  no 
doubt,  the  best  preservative  against  vicious  prac- 
tices- 
Much  might  be  said  to  show  the  fatality  and 
futility  of  associating  religion  with  monastic 
gloom^  afic!  the  infinite  injury  parents  do  their 
children  by  this  common  practice.  But  1  must 
pass  on,  to  mention  a  fashion  prevalent  amongst 
the  great,  at  least,  those  who  call  themselves  the 
great:  a  fasliion  that  1  will  be  bold  to  ^ay,  is  in 
open  hostility  with  all  the  interests  oi  benevolence 
and  paternal  munilicence:  and  that  is  the  fashion- 
able njode'^  of  rich  people  prematurely  separating 
their  ( hildren  soon  alter  their  birth,  and  giving 
them  in  cliarge  to  itinerant  nui'ses*  who  cannot 
be  supjiosed  to  Icel  the  same  tender  solicitude  for 
their  welfare  as  their  parents  must  unquestiona- 
bly feel;  they  are*  of  course,  resigned  to  the  ca- 
price of  persons,  who  often  punish  them  in  the 
most  cruel  manner,  while  the  poor  little  sufferers 
canaot  tell  who  injured  and  imposed  upon  th.em; 
and  female  children  often,  very  often,  receive  the 
seeds  of  unchastity  from  their  nurses;  which  will 
prove  in  Ibllowing  ^ears,  the  cause  of  their  des- 
truction: for  it  is  well  known,  that  many  wet 
nurses  are  merely  cai>acitated  for  their  employ- 
ment through  the  meoium  of  unchastity.  Par- 
ents taking  such  cliaracters  into  their  families^ 
and  suifering  them  to  associate  with  their  daugh- 
ters, is  one  priiicipal  cause  that  so  many  common 
prostitutes  crowd  our  cities;  thousands  of  inno- 
cent girls  have  been  ruined  by  this  means.     And 


^Hoiv  many  ladies  would-be  seen  carryings  ft  iftp-dog 
la  Ihc  street,  before  their  ofisprin^. 


VINDICATED.  129 

with  respect  to  parents  putting  out  their  little  in- 
fants from  under  their  paternal  roofrj  to  nurse,  I 
consider  the  practice  not  only  cruel  hut  unnatural: 
it  tends  to  annihilate  the  social  affections.  Fili- 
al and  paternal  tenderness,  by  this  means  are  al- 
most erased  from  botli  parents  and  children*  This 
assertion,  I  think,  I  can  authenticate,  not  only 
from  hypothesis,  and  the  nature  of  things,  but 
also  from  experience;  for  my  parents  had  adopt- 
ed, and  uniformly  practised  the  unnatural  custom, 
of  sending  their  children  at  our  birth,  from  under 
their  inspection,  and  giving  us  in  charge  to  nurs- 
es in  their  own  houses;  and  I  recollect  one  of  my 
sisters  was  almost  starved  before  it  was  found  out 
by  my  father,  who  instantly  had  her  taken  home^ 
We  were  generally  taken  from  our  nurses  under 
our  paternal  roof  again,  when  about  three  or  foux- 
years  old;  if  we  had  any  affection  it  was  for  our 
nurses;  for  my  own  part  I  loved  my  nurse  much 
more  than  my  parents  before  and  after  I  left  her; 
indeed,  l  never,  to  my  recollection,  felt  any  affec- 
tion for  ii\y  father,  while  in  a  state  of  minority; 
my  mother  died  when  I  was  about  five  years  old, 
I  consequently  could  not  exercise  much  social  af^ 
fcction  towards  her;  but  my  father,  with  whom 
I  lived  till  I  was  sixteen  years  old,  I  al\\  ays  dis« 
regarded,  on  account  of  the  appearance  of  mo- 
roseness  in  Iris  physiognomy,  and  the  distance 
he  kept  his  children  at,  though  he  was  by  no 
means  severer  but  seemed  to  be  as  destitute  of 
paternf^l  tenderi^ess,  as  I  w  as  of  filial  piety.  I 
would,  therefore,  recommend  parents,  who  wish 
to  gain,  and  keep  their  children's  affections,  to 
attend  to  the  old  proverb,  ^*Love  begets  love,'* 
whether  human  or  divine.  I  admire  God  for  his 
jnagnificence;  I  venerate  him  for  his  holiness;  I 
yeverence  him  for  his  matchless  p^wer;  I  est^Qia 


ISO  FEMALE  CHARACTEH 

him  for  his  justice;  but  I  love  him  supremely  for 
his  goodness,  which  is  infinite,  amazing  and  di- 
vine! 

I  may,  with  some  little  modification,  apply 
the  sentiment  to  my  fellow-travellers  to  a  world 
of  spirits;  I,  therefore,  admire  the  statesman  that 
acts  a  judicious  part  in  the  cabinet;  I  eulogize 
the  author  who  displays  his  ingenuity  in  the  re- 
public of  letters  for  useful  purposes:  but  that  man, 
and  that  man  alone  I  love,  with  the  lovfj  of  com- 
placency, who  directs  his  taients  with  tender  so- 
licitude to  the  purposes,  and  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  the  happiness  of  his  fellow  creatures;  but 
alas!  how  seldom  these  philanthropic  individuals 
are  to  be  found:  how  often  do  we  see  vanity  and 
ambition  manufacture  authors,  who  prostitutes 
tliemost  illustrious  talents  to  the  most  unworthy 
purposes,  with  the  brilliancy  of  diction,  the  ap- 
pearance of  tender  emotion,  the  flippancy  of  lan- 
guage, and  the  flowers  of  rhetoric;  they  exhibit 
resplendent  performances,  which  flatter  to  des- 
troy; which,  under  the  profe^ion  of  respect  for 
the  cause  of  virtue,  hide  the  most  deadl;^^  poi^on,^ 
\vho  kiss^  like  Judas,  and  stab  like  Joab;  and 
yet,  those  who  profess  to  be  critics  and  reviewers, 
applaud,  as  delicious  trifles,  those  voluptuous 
performances;  the  authors  of  which,,  exert  their 
ingenuity  to  mislead  the  unguarded,  and,  with 
sacrilegious  profanity,  undermine  the  founda- 
tions of  social  virtue,  overturn  the  ramparts  of 
female  innocence,  and  ransack  the  repository  of 
divine  revelation;  perhaps  a  deviation  from  the 


*At  the  end  of  this  chapter,  onr  readers  are  present^ 
ed  with  an  Essay  on  the  f*lnjit*ence  of  fictitious  turitin£$ 
9'n  thfC  mini^^^ 


t^INDICATED.  f3X 

radical  rules  of  composition,  tlie  critics  and  re- 
viewers would  recognize  with  the  microscope  of 
criticism,  and  yet,  forsooth,  they  can  let  these 
Ingenious  murderers  of  the  human  soul,  not  only 
pass  with  impunity,  but  heap  encomiums  upon 
them,  and  crown  them  with  popularity.  As  well 
might  they  applaud  the  beautiful  leopard  that  de- 
vours a  man,  or  the  ingenious  fascinating  serpent 
that  charms  and  destroys  the  innocent  bird.  Just 
as  reasonable  would  it  be  for  them  to  recommend 
the  assassin  for  his  ingenuity,  who,  by  a  secret 
process,  a  new  plan,  most  ingenious  and  profound, 
destroys  the  lives  of  his  fellow  men,  at  the  mo- 
ment he  appears  to  be  saving  them,  and  sends 
them  off  the  stage  of  action  with  a  smile  on  their 
countenances;  without  a  sigh  or  a  groan,  and  in- 
sensible of  bodily  or  mental  pain;  which  must  of 
course,  be  reserved  for  their  anticipf»tion  in  a  fu- 
ture world,  where  no  such  libidinous  deceptions 
and  sophistry  can  be  practised.  Without  any 
comment,  for  in  fact  it  needs  none,  I  will  illus- 
trate tlie  anterior  remarks  by  transcribing  a  pa- 
ragraph published  in  a  London  newspaper,  res- 
pecting the  most  popular  poet  of  the  age. 

*'A  meeting  has  taken  place,  at  Chalk -farm, 
between  Francis  Jeffries,  Esq.  of  Edinburgh, 
and  Thomas  Moore,  Esq.  commonly  called  Ana- 
creon  Moore:  but  by  the  timely  appearance  of  the 
Bow-street  officers,  mischief  was  prevented.  This 
meeting  was  produced  by  a  literary  quarrel:  Mr» 
Jeffries  having  written  an  article,  which  was  pub- 
lished in  the  Edinburgh  Review,  reflecting  on 
the  poems,  of  the  modern  An acrcon;  in  which  he 
is  charged  with  'imposing  corruption  upon  iiis 
readers,  by  concealing  it  under  the  mask  ot  re- 
finement, to  reconcile  them  insensibly  to  the  most 
vile  and  vulgar  sensuality^  by  biending  its  i^m 


132  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

guage  with  that  of  exalted  feeling,  and  tender  e* 
motion.  How  true  a  degcHption  is  this  of  one 
half  of  the  poems  and  novels  of  the  duy/^ 

1  would  here  mention  a  circumstance,  which 
has  a  particular  tendency  to  degiade  the  female 
character,  and  which  encourages  m^n  to  encroach 
upon  the  natural  rights  of  women;  and  that  is^ 
the  ridiculous  partiality  of  mothers  in  particular, 
and  parents  in  general,  to  their  male,  in  prefer- 
ence to  their  female  children.  One  would  sup- 
pose, that  such  characters  were  virtually  if  not 
practically,  the  votaries  of  Mahometan  ism;  that 
they  did  not  helieve  in  the  immateriality  of  the 
souls  of  females;  hut  that  they  were  created  and 
put  into  the  world,  merely  for  the  sensual  conve- 
nience of  men  and  for  their  domestic  accommoda- 
tion, and,  of  course,  that  men  are  of  decided  and 
transcendent  superiority  to  women. 

The  mothers  who  profess  to  be  proselytes  to 
the  christian  religion,  and  who,  of  courjse,  be- 
lieve their  female  offspring  to  be  the  heirs  of  im- 
mortality, and  rewardable  or  punishable  accord- 
ing to  the  merit  or  demerit  of  their  actions,  and 
their  belief  or  unbelief  in  the  Son  of  God  and  Sav- 
iour of  the  world;  1  think  such  mothers  should 
blush,  when  they  reflect  on  the  moral  mischief 
they  produce  (in  the  rising  generation,)  by  their 
mental  imbecility;  they  virtually  teach  their  sons 
to  despise  their  sisters,  and  pay  no  respect  to 
their  feelings,  they  destroy  that  urbanity  of  dis* 
position  which  tends  to  produce  domestic  felicity; 
they  sow  the  seeds  of  unsociability,  which  prove 
a  barrier  to  preclude  the  introduction  of  recipro- 
cal tenderness  and  all  the  social  and  sentimental 
affections;  they  implant  in  their  boys  imperious 
pride,  with  all  its  subordinate  auxiliaries,  its 
gubdivisious  and  concomitants;  and  in  their  girls, 


VINDICATED.  133 

self  degradation,  mortification,  and  disgust: 
they  impregnate  their  juvenile  minds  witli  such 
unsocial  and  deleterious  sentiments,  so  invincible 
as  to  defy  even  the  power  of  religion  to  eradicate. 
Yet  stubborn  facts  authenticate  the  assertion- 
There  are  men,  and  good  men  too,  not  pagans, 
but  real  christians,  the  prejudices  of  whose  edu 
cation  remain  unconquered;  notwithstanding  the 
influence  of  religion  on  their  minds,  has^made  a 
thorough  revolution  and  reformation  in  their  mor- 
al deportment:  yet  so  powerful  are  first  impres- 
sions, that  even  such  men  (though  affectionate  in 
ether  respects,)  consider  their  wives  merely  as^ 
domestic  beings,  whose  element  is  a  nursery,  and 
whose  business  is  exclusively  confined  to  domes- 
tic economy,  and  maternal  solicitude,  without 
any  reference  to  theological  vocations,  scientific 
improvement,  or  intellectual  refinement;  but  with- 
out religion,  men  of  this  description  are  capable 
of  blasting  the  domestic  peace,  and  casting  a 
mental  gloom  over  the  women,  who  are  so  unfor- 
tunate as  to  be  united  with  tliem  in  the  bands  of 
holy  matrimony. 

A  female  of  refined  sensibility  would  enjoy  as 
much  sentimental  pleasure  in  the  company,  and 
from  hearing  the  conversation  of  a  rustic,  as  that 
of  such  a  character;  an  ignorant  person,  she  would 
be  inclined  to  pity;  but  a  philosophical  pedant 
she  would  despise. 

Women,  who  are  thus  unhappily  united,  can 
best  tell  the  infelicity  of  such  marriages,  the 
mental  languor  produced  thereby,  the  painful  sen- 
sations resulting  from  the  recollection  of  the  per- 
manency of  the  conjugal  state,  and  the  impossi- 
bility of  ever  anticipating  a  moment's  refined 
pleasure,  or  intellectual  gratification,  in  the  com- 
muiiion  and  intercourse  of  persons  so  different  iu 


134  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

their  opinions  and  associations — wliere  one  partj 
are  exalted  to  demigods,  and  the  other  degraded 
to  brutes. 

Finally,  the  consequences  resulting  from  these 
inimical  prejudices,  have  been,  still  are,  and  it 
is  to  be  feared  will  long  continue,  to  plant  with 
thorns  the  nuptial  bed,  which  ought  to  be  a  bed  of 
roses;  and  strew  the  intermediate  path  between 
marriage  and  the  grave  with  briars;  instead  of  its 
being  carpetted  with  flowers. 

I  will,  therefore,  with  boldness  assert,  that 
mothers,  above  all  other  people,  should  be  well 
informed  in  all  the  branches  of  polite  literature, 
in  order  that  they  may  be  capacitated  to  inform 
their  children.^     When  this  is  not  the  case,  the 


*The  following- passage  is  from  Buckminster:  *^If  any 
thing  in  life  deserves  to  be  considered  as  at  once  the 
exquisite  bliss,  and  pre-eminent  duty  of  a  mother,  it 
is  tliis — to  watch  the  drawing  disposition  and  capacity 
of  a  favorite  child;  to  discover  the  earliest  buds  of 
thought,  to  feed  with  useful  truths  the  inquisltiveness 
of  a  young  and  curious  mind;  to  direct  the  eyes,  yet 
unsullied  with  the  waters  of  contrition,  to  a  bounteous 
benefactor,  to  lift  the  little  hand  yet  unstained  wit!^. 
vice  in  prayer  to  their  Father  who  is  in  Heaven,  But 
so  it  is.  The  child,  as  soon  as  it  is  released  from  tlie 
bondage  of  the  nurse,  a^^d  needs  no  longer  a  careful 
eye  to  look  after  its  steps  and  guard  it  from  external  in- 
jury, is  too  often  surrendered  to  instructors,  some  of 
whom  are.  employed  to  polish  the  surface  of  the  charac- 
ter, and  regulate  motions  of  the  limbs,  others  to 
furnish  the  memory,  and  accomplish  the  imagination, 
while  religion  gets  admission  as  she  can,  sometimes  in 
aid  of  authority,  and  sometimes  in  a  Saturday's  task, 
©r  a  Sunday's  peculiarity,  but  how  rarely  as  a  sentiment. 
Their  little  hearts  are  mad,«  to  ill; tter  with  ranity,   en- 


VINDICATED.  i35 

children  who  receive  a  classical  education,  are 
too  apt  to  look  down  with  contempt,  upon  their 
illiterate  mothers,  when  they  return  from  col- 
leges; and  other  seminaries  of  learning.  They 
should,  therefore,  consider  prudence  and  propri- 
ety, not  as  sexual  virtues;  but  should  inculcate 
sentiments  of  delicacy  upon  the  minds  of  their 
male,  as  well  as  female  progeny;  by  this  means 
tliat  unnatural  contempt  for  the  female  character, 
which  1  have  been  execrating,  will  be  done  away; 
and  that  hereditary  prejudice,  produced  by  the 
father's  impropriety,  and  mother's  imprudence? 
would  be  obviated;  we  should  no  more  see  the  laws 
of  prudence  outraged;  and  common  decency  vio- 
lated in  females:  or,  for  distinction  sake,  I  will 
call  them  ladies,  who  appropriate  to  themselves 
the  name  of  virtuous,  and  profess  to  be  the  vota- 
ries of  modesty;  but  I  would  ask  such  characters, 
what  kind  of  modesty  is  it  which  can  bow  at  the 
shrine  of  fashion,  however  obscene  and  capri- 
tious.  If  it  can  be  called  modesty,  it  surely 
must  be  that  peculiar  to  lewd  women. 

Another  grand  reason  I  assign  for  the  ^obvious 
degradation  of  a  great  majority  of  the  sex,  is  the 
indelicacy  with  Avhich  infants  are  treated  by  ser- 
vants and  underlings;  and  the  censurable  inatten- 
tion of  parents  to  this  important  point,  which  has 


couraged  to  pant  for  emulation,  persuaded  to  contract 
with  parsimony,  allowed  to  glow  with  revenge,  or  re- 
duced to  absolute  numbness  by  worldliness  and  cares 
before  they  have  ever  felt  a  sentiment  of  devotion,  or 
gratitude  for  a  benefit  in  the  presence  of  God.  Believe 
me  mothers,  you  have  no  right  to  expect  that  the  sensfc 
pf  religion  wilf  be  infused  by  the  labors  of  others. 

•  «When  parents  have  ceased  to  be  teachers,   religiou 
has  ceased  to  be  ^aught/- 


136  FEMALE   CHARACTER 

been  the  means  of  bringing  many  a  respectable 
man^s  child  to  premature  prostitution:  and,  while 
we  ])ity  the  child,  we  must  reproach  the  parent, 
as  the  primary  cause  of  the  same:  for,  no  pains 
w  ere  taken  at  an  early  period  of  life  by  the  par- 
ents, to  associate  the  ideas  of  delicacy  and  chas- 
tity, with  honor  and  propriety;  and,  on  the  oth- 
er hand,  immodesty  and  indelicacy,  with  shame 
and  contempt. 

I  say  again,  in  unequivocal  terms,  that  this 
neglect  in  mothers  is  one  of  the  radical  causes, 
why  so  many  prostitutes  crowd  our  cities  and 
principal  sea-port  towns.  If  the  mother  j^uffeis 
her  daughter  to  go  into  the  very  jaws  of  tempta- 
tion, and,  at  the  same  time,  never  takes  any 
pains  to  guard  her  against  those  temptations,  and 
the  fatality  and  remorse  connected  with  yielding 
to  them:  is  it  therefore  any  wonder  they  should 
become  the  victims  of  seduction  or  wayward  ap- 
petite? It  is  only  by  exciting  disgust  and  abhor- 
rence at  the  prospect  of  every  thought  that  can 
corrupt  a  pure  imagination,  that- we  can  inspire 
the  genuine  sentiments  of  true  chastity,  and  un- 
affected delicacy.  Again,  how  often  does  it  hap- 
pen, that  the  foolish  pride,  and  self-distinction 
of  peo])le,  in  the  middling  ranks  of  society,  pre- 
maturely poison  the  juvenile  minds  of  their  chil- 
dren, by  causing  them  to  consider  gi'andeur  and 
honor,  indigence  and  insignificance,  poverty  and 
disgrace,  as  synonymous  terms.' 

When,  therefore,  these  children,  by  the  extrav- 
agance of  their  parents,  are  reduced  to  the  pain- 
ful necessity  of  taking  their  stand  in  the  lowest 
rank  of  society;  what  agonizing  sensations  must 
they  experience;  resulting  from  the  wrong  asso- 
ciation of  ideas  in  the  first  instance;  and  what 
aggravates  their  mortification  at  the  change  of 


VINDICATED.  137 

arcumstances,  is  the  melancholy  consideration, 
that  they  consider  themselves  in  the  same  light, 
^i.  e.  with  contempt)  in  which  they  formerly  view- 
ed poor  people,  in^  the  humble  ranks  of  virtuous 
mediocrity;  and  they  conceive  the  world  views 
them  in  the  same  point  of  view.     These  unreason- 
ably   supeixilious,    and  destructive   sentimeats,^^ 
prove  the  harbingers  of  their  downfall,  from  the 
flow^cry  paths  of  virtue,  to  the  devious  paths  of 
folly.     Alas!  how  often  has,  and  I  may  add,  how^ 
often  do  the  children  of  respectable  people  (in  the 
event  of  their  parents  death,  or  reduction  in  a  pe- 
cuniai'y  sense,)  precipitate  themselves  into   the 
abyss  of  degradation  and  prostitution:  hence  the 
juvenile  companions  of  virtuous  sensibility   be- 
come forever  separated: — as  two  beautiful  virgins 
walking  hand  in  hand  through  the  vernal  grove, 
they   pluck  the  ambrosial  fruit,  they  exhale  the 
fragrance  of  the  scented  mead,  they  listen  to  the 
songs  of  the  lark,  and  view  the  silver  stream  run 
thrilling  by  them,  and  crown  each  other   with 
laurel  garlands;  when  lo!  clouds  surcharge  with 
double  darkness,  the  lowering  atmosphere;  the 
thunder  bellows,  and  the  forked  lightnings  flash 
from  pole  to  pole;  while  each  of  the  terrified  maid- 
ens seek  for  safety  in  different  directions:  one  re- 
turns to  the  peaceful  habitation  of  virtuous  medio- 
crity, while  the  other  seeks  for  shelter  under  the 
spreading  foliage  of  the  sovereign  oak;  when  lo! 
a  lion,  ranging  o'er  the  lawn,  spies  the  tremb- 
ling maid:  he  rears  his  main,  he  runs,  he  flys  up- 
on the  devoted  victim;  he  tears  her  to  pieces;  and 
bears  her  in  his  grim  paws  to  his  sequestered  den, 
in  the  gloomy  forest. 

Thus  are  the  companions  of  youth  forever  sep- 
arated by  vice,  the  influence  of  evil  communica- 
tions, and  paternal  uegHgence  and  folly. 
12# 


38  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

if  we  want  a  proof  of  the  authenticity  of  these 
remarks,  we  need  only  turn  our  minds  to  the 
numerous  haunts  of  debaucliery  and  dissipation; 
and  the  lamentable  proof  will  appear,  in  the  per- 
sons of  the  most  beautiful  women,  clear  as  the 
sun  beam.  Can  -any  mother,  wlio  is  possessed  of 
a  particle  of  patriotism  and  maternal  sensibility, 
feel  unalTected  at  viewing,  even  superficially,  this 
true,  though  degrading  picture?  Let  her  look  up- 
on her  infant,  with  eyes  of  maternal  sensibility, 
and  then  view,  with  sympathetic  commisseration, 
the  daughters  of  respectable  parents,  who  were 
wrecked  on  the  rocks  and  slioals  which  the  object 
of  this  woj'k  is  to  exhibit  to  \iew,  that  they  may 
he  avoided  by  the  rising  generation. 

Before  I  conclude  this  chapter.  I  must  observe, 
that  young  women  bring  themselves  to  ruin  and 
disgrace,  by  too  imjdicitly  believing  the  vague 
promises  of  men,  who  flatter  to  deceive.  Parents 
arc  certainly  extremely  reprehensible,  for  en- 
couraging too  much  familiarity  between  the  sex; 
as  well  as  for  not  carefully  explaining  to  their 
daughters,  the  dangers  that  will  result  therefrom. 
Thousands  of  virgins  have  been  ruined  by  this 
means:  but  as  some  freedom  is  justifiable,  and  as 
a  prudent  intercourse  is  commendable,  females 
should  act  witli  the  most  becoming  reservedness 
and  modesty,  in  the  presence  of  their  suitors:  as- 
suiing  themselves,  that  no  man  of  real  honor,  or 
virtuous  sensibility,  ever  did,  ever  will,  or  ever 
can  marry  a  woman  who  has  given  him  reason  to 
believe  she  is  destitute  of  modesty.  If  the  female 
gives  iier  suitor  such  liberty,  at  which  modesty 
w  ould  blush  to  behold,  and  virtue  would  weep  to 
witness;  he,  of  course,  supposes  she  would,  if 
opportunity  served,  and  importunity  solicited, 
give  another  man  the  same  liberties;  and,  conse 


VINDICATED.  159 

quently,  that  she  is  by  no  means  worthy  to  be 
marte  the  partner  of  his  life  and  fortune;  if  he  lov^ 
cd  her  before  ever  so  ardently,  liis  antecedent 
love  will  be  changed  to  subsequent  contempt,  mix- 
ed with  pity;  and  if  his  pity  should  be  paramount 
to  Iiis  honor,  yet  the  recollection  of  her  past  im- 
modesty would  be  the  cause  of  periodical  jealousy 
on  the  one  part,  and  misery  on  the  other.  Yet, 
notwithstanding  the  simplicity  and  plainness  of 
these  remarks,  how  many  young  women  have,  and 
how  many  do,  become  the  victims  of  their  own 
credulity,  and  nlan^s  hypocrisy. 

AH  tlie  reason  I  can  assign  for  this  prodigious 
folly,  palpable  stupidity,  shameful  imbecility, 
and  flagrant  unchastity  in  many  thousands,  who 
were  previously  virtuous  young  women,  is  the 
neglect  of  their  parents,  in  not  impressing  on 
their  minds,  from  their  infancy,  tliese  intrinsi- 
cally momentous  reflections.  Incited  there  are 
many  men,  who  make  it  their  particular  business 
in  choosing  a  wife,  to  irj  and  prove  her  virtue; 
if  she  resists  with  becoming  detestation  and  ab- 
horrence, the  least  innovations  on  her  delicacy, 
it  will  cause  lier  su;tor  not  only  to  love,  but  also 
to  venerate  her  m^re  than  he  did  before;  for  all 
men,  however  loose  in  their  own  morals,  feel  the 
most  revereiitial  respect  and  veneration  for  fe- 
male virtue,  when  untarnished  and  unadultera- 
ted, wiiich  their  sagacity  soon  discriaiinates. 
But  there  is  not  only  the  prefixed  obvious  evils 
attending  female  imprudence,  resulting  from  pa- 
ternal negligence,  but  more  tragical  catastr.^phes 
often  are  the  fruits  thereof.  What  immense  num- 
bers of  young  women  have,  when  their  foolish 
and  injudicious  conduct,  has  produced  the  effect 
I  have  above  described;  namely,  to  cause  the 
men  they  loved,  and  who  also;  perhaps,  loved 


140  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

them,  to  renounce  them  forever;  I  say,  how  of- 
ten  has  it  happened,  that  these  unhappy  females 
have  puf^n  end  to  their  own  wretched  existence, 
or  have  thrown  themselves  as  abandoned  prosti- 
tutes upon  the  town.  I  will  venture  to  affirm  tliat 
there  are  now  thousands  living;  who  could  sub- 
scribe to  the  authenticity  of  this  assertion  with 
weeping  eyes  and  agonizing  hearts:  I  therefore 
tlo  not  conceive  how  1  can  be  more  beneficial  to 
society  in  general,  and  my  fair  readers  in  parti- 
cular, than  by  exhibiting  to  their  view,  in  a  plain 
and  pointed  manner,  these  obvious  rocks  of  se- 
duction, on  which  thousands  of  beautiful,  respec- 
table, and  previously  virtuous  females  have  been 
dashed  to  pieces;  and  many  too,  who  never 
thought  themselves,  nor  even  their  companions  or 
relatives,  that  they  ever  would  have  come  to  so 
tragical  an  end;  but  beauty  has  produced  vanity, 
vanity  pride,  and  pride  has  paved  the  way  for  the 
successful  innovations  of  the  votaries  of  seduc- 
tion. 

Some  persons,  no  doubt,  will  think  tbat  I  am 
too  plain  and  pointed  in  my  animadversions;  and 
that  I,  in  some  instances,  even  use  asperity  of 
language  in  my  admonitions  and  reproofs;  to 
such  I  will  say,  that  admitting  their  thoughts 
were  correct,  yet  even  the  purity  of  my  motives, 
and  my  affectionate  and  ardent  solicitude  for  tlic 
present  and  eternal  happiness  of  my  fellow  mor- 
•  tals,  should  plead  my  excuse,  and  cover  my  in- 
discretion in  this  respect,  with  the  mantle  of  love; 
but  I  positively  deny  the  correctness  of  their  ideas 
on  the  subject,  which  1  will  prove  to  the  satisfac- 
tion of  every  candid  mind,  by  tiie  following  sim- 
ilitudes. 

A  certain  polite  gentleman  descries  his  neigh- 
bor^ house  wrapt  in  flames  at  midnight,  while 


VINDICATED.  141 

the  family  are  all  slumbering  on  their  bedvS,  in 
sensible  of  their  danger;  this  polite  gentleman, 
instead  of  forgetting  for  a  moment  the  etiquette 
of  politeness,  and  rushing  into  their  bed-chamber^ 
and  warning  them  of  their  imminent  danger,  raps 
gently  at  the  door  and  calls,  but  calls  in  vain; 
till  the  flames  surround,  and  consume  them  iit 
their  beds.  Suppose  the  same  man  saw  a  lady^ 
who  happened  to  fall  out  of  a  pleasure  boat,  drown  - 
ing,  she  sinks,  her  head  rises  again  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  water,  but  thinking  it  indelicate  to 
catch  her  by  the  hair  of  her  head,  he  neglects 
his  opportunity,  and  lets  her  drown;  would  not 
such  a  man  be  virtually  a  murdbrer?  Surety  he 
would. 

By  these  similitu(\es  we  may  see  the  necessity 
of  warning  souls  fainifully,  who  are  standing  on 
the  brink  of  present  and  eternal  woe.  The  mag- 
nitude of  the  evil  may  be  ascertained  by  its  dread- 
ful concomitants:  and  we  may  see  the  moral  tur- 
pitude of  the  sin,  by  its  prohibition  in  sacred  and 
profane  history,  and  the  most  signal  and  severe 
punishment  annexed  to  the  commission  of  it.  Ac- 
cording to  the  Mosaic  economy,  the  maid  who 
committed  whoredom  in  her  father's  house,  ^'was^ 
surely  to  be  put  to  deathJ^  And  there  are  exist- 
ing laws  among  many  of  the  heathen  nations,  e- 
qually,  and  in  some  instances  more  severe,  than 
even  that;    particularly   among  the    Chinese,'* 


*As  childrew  have  nothing  but  what  they  receive  by 
nature  and  education  from  their  parents,  tutors,  and 
companions,  the  infamy  rests  ultimately  on  their  par- 
ents and  those  who  have  the  care  of  their  edncation, 
(especially  when  they  live  among  those  of  their  own 
Profession)   and   not  on  themselves,   who  are  ignorant 


14  ;  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

whose  penal  laws,  in  this  and  other  instances,  arft 
extremely  salutary,  judicious  and  equitable;  par- 
ticularly as  it  respects  their  tracing  the  crime  to 
its  source,  and  recognizing  the  cause  as  well  a.^ 
the  ejdbcts.  The  parents  are  punislied  as  we  have 
already  hinted,  as  the  primary  cause  of  the  evil; 
and  the  child  as  the  secondary  cause;  and  I  would 
ask  if  the  laws  of  man  judiciously  traces  a  crime 
from  its  commission  to  its  source,  will  the  laws 
of  ut)d  be  less  judicious?  Surely  not.  >yhat  a 
pity  it  is  tliat  the  laws  organized  by  the  Christian 
governments  s!  ould  not  criminate  those  who  are 
the  perpetrators  of  crimes:  surely,  then,  parents 
would  be  more  particular  how  they  instructed 
their  cliildren,  w  hen  tliey  would  be  answerable 
for  their  negligence  in  this  respect;  if  this  was 
the  case,  our  prisons  would  not  be  so  crowded 
witli  vagrants  of  various  descriptions;  surely  so 
many  prostitutes  would  not  crowd  and  disgrace 
our^  cities;  incomparably  more  so,  than  in  the 
most  uncivilized  and  savage  countries.  Surely 
a  less  number  of  culprits  would  be  executed,  less 
suicide  committed,  less  seduction  effected,  less 
disobedience  to  parents  recognized,  less  contempt 
of  religion,  artd  moral  obligation  shown,  fewer 


of  their  own  weakness  and  of  the  evil  consequences 
that  will  attend,  until  it  is  too  late  to  prevent  them 
The  Chinese  l&ws  make  communities  answerable  for  of 
fences  committed  within  their  respective  authorities, 
parents  for  the  misbehavior  of  their  children,  conclu- 
ding" that  they  must  have  neglected  their  education?  and 
mag-istrates  are  severely  punished  for  those  crimes  com 
initted  within  the  districts  of  their  authority.  Moderr 
Universal  History,  vol.  viii.  pag^js  153,  172.  AncicT^ 
' T n i V c rs al  H i story,   vol.  yii i .    pag-e  266 


VINDICATED.  145 

•obscene  ami  scandalous  fashions  prevalent;  and, 
ill  short,  a  less  numhei*  of  nuirders,  tiicfts,  and 
robberies  committed,  in  what  are  called  chris- 
tian countries.  However,  if  the  laws  of  short- 
sighted man  w  ill  not  take  cognizance  of  the  de- 
linquency of  parents  for  the  disobedience  of  their 
children,  God  will  assuredly  do  it,  and  that  with 
a  vengeance;  and  the  punishment  will  be  superi- 
or to  that  of  their  children,  according  to  the  na- 
ture of  their  negligence,  and  deleterious  prece- 
dence: for  instance,  I  would  ask  any  man  of  com- 
mon sense  and  candor,  does  not  that  parent  ob^ 
viously  deserve  more  contempt  and  execration, 
for  the  clandestine  perpetration  of  crimes  commit- 
ted™ by  her  child,  than  the  child  herself;  if  she 
never  suggested  to  her  that  those  crimes  were 
incompatible  with  the  principles  of  moral  recti- 
tude; and  especially  if  the  mother  was  the  only 
vehicle  of  information  to  which  the  daughter  could 
have  access?  Witlmut  any  matter  of  doubt.  1 
have  myself  known  the  daughter  of  respectable 
parents,  who  exhibited  the  indelible  fruits  of  il- 
licit love;  the  blame  was  exclusively  thrown  up- 
on the  actual  delinquents,  while  the  virtual  cul- 
prits, namely,  the  parents,  were  considered  guilt- 
less:  yet,  forsooth,  the  wickedness  was  trans- 
acted under  their  roof,  and  almost  under  their 
own  eyes.  And  I  am  now  acquainted  with  re- 
putable j^arents,  who  profess  religion,  and  who 
arc  in  otlier  respects  friendly,  generous  neigh- 
bors; yet  act  with  as  much  indifference  to  their 
children,  w  ith  respect  to  their  moral  improve- 
ment, as  if  they  were  merely  domestic  animals; 
particularly  their  eldest  daughter,  a  young  wo- 
man, who  is  allowed  such  liberties,  as  well  as 
her  gallant,  that  if  she  is  not  ruined,  it  will  bo 
more  by  good  luck  than  good  guiding.     A  prac- 


144  FEMALE  CFIARACTER 

titioner  in  the  arts  of  seduction  could  not  desire 
more  opportunities  for  the  operation  of  his  dele- 
terious designs,  than  is  given  in  this  family. 

I  was  grieved,  tohehold  female  innocence  and 
beauty  brought  to  the  verge  of  destruction:  and, 
from  a  sense  of  duty,  personally,  but  privately 
expostulated  with  and  admonished  the  father,  and 
pointed  out  the  danger  of  giving  his  daughter 
such  liberties;  and  particularly  depicted  the  case 
of  widows,  who  lived  the  virtuous  wives  of  res- 
pectable husbands,  yet  on  their  death,  they  have 
thix)ugh  tlie  invincible  arts  of  seduction,  been  led 
(even  such  characters  who,  perhaps,  previously 
thought  they  would  sooner  Suffer  the  most  painful 
death,  tlian  disgrace  the  memory  of  their  deceas« 
ed  husbands  and  living  cliildren,)  from  the  flow- 
ery paths  of  chastity;  but,  notwithstanding  all 
my  expostulations  and  animadversions,  he  seem- 
ed callous  and  insensible  to  the  cogent  solicitude 
I  manifested  for  the  safety  of  his  child.  He,  in 
fact,  I  thought,  seemed  to  be  morally  dead  to  the 
future  woe  of  his  children.  Is  it  possible  such 
parents  can  be  guiltless  in  the  siglit  of  that  wise 
Being,  who  scrutinizes  the  cause  as  well  as  the 
effect  of  eviP  It  is  impossible.  I  will  be  bold  to 
say,  that  this  destructive  negligence,  this  pater- 
nal insensibility  is  the  cause  of  the  ruin  of  more 
females,  than  any  other  cause  whatever.  For  1 
w  ould  ask,  how  can  a  young  w  oman,  unconsci- 
ous and  unguarded,  w  ho  has  never  been  apprised 
of  her  danger,  by  her  parents,  the  only  personis 
%vho  ought  to  admonish  her  on  so  delicate  a  sub- 
ject; how  can  she  escape  pollution,  Avhen  oppor- 
tunity, importunity  and  the  invincibility  of  se- 
duction, are  all  combined  against  her?  She  par- 
leys, she  reasons  with  her  seducer;  but,  alas!  in 
Tain:  his  sophistry  is  paramount  to  all  her  artle^; 


VINDICATED ,  i^o 

logic.  The  libertine  hears  but  will  not  under- 
stand. She  falls  a  martyr,  I  will  not  say,  to 
the  arts  of  seduction,  but  to  paternal  neglect. 
While  the  female,  who  has  been  taught  in  tlio 
school  of  maternal  experience,  on  whose  juvenile 
mind  has  been  impressed  the  indispensible  duties 
peculiar  to  the  female  character,  to  whom  has 
been  pointed  out  the  many  formidable  plans  laid 
to  ensnare  the  sex  and  fascinate  the  unguarded, 
the  sure  and  certain  way,  also,  to  shun  these 
snares  and  vanquish  every  innovation,  when  the 
adept  at  seduction  appears  with  all  his  wiles  in 
the  presence  of  such  a  character,  she  views  him 
with  scorn;  and,  as  she  considers  the  smallest  at- 
attempt  on  her  chastity,  or  the  least  insinuation 
stamped  with  the  signature  of  indelicacy,  as  au 
unpardonable  insult,  she  replies  to  the  same  with 
magnanimous  contempt  and  execration,  and 
frow^ns  the  reptile  to  his  native  insignificance; 
while  she  insinuates  that  she  would  sooner  sacri- 
fice a  thousand  lives,  than  forego  her  untarnish- 
ed chastity.  He  will  shrink  from  the  presence  ot 
the  virtuous  fair  one,  with  self  condemnation, 
mixed  with  reverential  admiration,  as  an  owl  from 
the  face  of  day. 


*Many  alas!  too  many  of  those  fashlonabis  females 
who  may,  with  great  propriety  be  called  affected  prude?, 
would  apparently  be  shocked  and  petrified  with  horror 
at  the  bare  mention  of  some  words  in  this  work;  and 
yet,  forsooth,  these  very  modcBt  fair  ones,  the  very 
same  moment  they  thus  blush,  are  not  ashamed  to  Ap- 
pear in  the  presence  of  youn^  men,  both  in  private  and 
public,  clothed  in  such  a  lascivious  manner,  and  as- 
suming such  wanton  attitudes,  as  to  cause  the  burning 
bl'ish  of  shame  to  ting-e  the  cheek  of  the  beholder. 

13 


146  FEMALE  CHARACTER 


AN  USSAir 

O^^    THE 

Iirftiiences  of  fictitious  Wfithig^  on  the  mincL 

Tqo  great  an  indulgence,  in  those  pleasures  of 
taste  which  tragic  recitals  arc  adapted  to  impart, 
must  he  admitted  to  have  a  decidedly  prejudicial 
influence  on  the  mind.     The  effect  of  novel   read- 
ing is  more  deleterious  than  that  of  poetry,   he- 
cause  the  excitement  is  in  general  moi^e  powerful; 
and  that  the  novelist  relies   more  simply  on  the 
passion  of  cu}*iosity  for  producing  gratification, 
t!ian  the  poet  does,   v^ho  seeks  to  please  by  more 
refined  means.     The  consequence  is,  that  by  the 
practice  of  novel    reading,   the  imagination  be- 
comes diseased,   as  the  eflfect  of  an  unnatural  ex- 
citement whicl),  not  being  carried  o.T  by  any  cor- 
respondant  exertion  of  a  practical  kind,  is  thrown 
back  as  it  were  on  itself.     In  real  life,  the  mind 
becomes  strengthened  by  being  accustomed  to  the 
contem])Iation  of  danger  and  suffering.     In  other 
woi'ds,  fear  and    j)ity  are  lessoned   and  become 
weaker  in  our  minds,  in  proportion   as  we  iearn 
to  govern  and   siqj'press  imaginations  in  encoun- 
tering danger  and  relieving  misery.     Indefinite 
objects  excite   the  strongest  emotions,    because 
they  are  viewed  through  the  medium  of  imagina- 
tion; but  let  us  become  acquainted  with  their  true 
shape  and  nature,  and  we  begin  to  wonder  how 
they  affected  us  so  powerfully.     But  there  is  no 
analogy  between  the  influence  of  real  sorrows, 
5ind  the  effect  produced  by  the  contemplation  of 


VINDICATED.  147 

imaginary  ones.  The  mind  i:-?  not  strengthened 
by  being  ina<!e  to  feel,  but  by  the  exertion  requi- 
site to  subdue  and  govern  the  feeling.  Bis}u)p 
Butler  has  a  striking  passage  bearing  on  this  sub- 
ject. *'As  habits  belonging  to  the  body  are  pro- 
duced by  external  acts,  so/"'  remarks  the  learned 
prelate,  *'habits  of  tfie  mind  are  produced  by  the 
exertion  of  inward  practical  principles:  that  is, 
by  carrying  them  into  action;  ihe  principles  of 
obedience,  of  veracity,  Justice  and  charity.  Res- 
olutions to  do  well  are  properly  acts.  But  going 
o\^er  the  theory  of  virtue  in  one's  thoughts,  talking 
well,  and  drawing  fine  pictures  of  it, — this  is  so 
far  from  necessarily  or  certainly  conducing  to 
form  a  habit  of  it  in  him  who  thus  employs  him- 
self, that  it  may  harden  the  mind  in  a  contrary 
course,  and  form  a  habit  of  insensibility  to  all 
moral  considerations.  For,  from  our  \evy  facul- 
ty of  habits,  passive  impressions,  by  being  re- 
peated, grow  weaker.  Thoughts,  by  often  pas- 
sing through  the  mind,  are  felt  less  sensibly.  Be- 
ing accustomed  to  danger,  begets  intrepidity;  that 
is,  lessens  fear;  to  distress,  lessens  pity;  to  in- 
stances of  other's  mortality,  lessens  the  sensible 
apprehension  of  our  own.  And  from  tliese  two 
observations  taken  together,  that  practical  habits 
are  formed  and  strengthened  by  repeated  acts,  and 
that  passive  impressions  grow  weaker  by  being 
repeated  upon  us;  it  must  follow,  that  active  hab- 
its may  be  gradually  forming  and  strengthening 
by  a  course  of  acting  upon  such  and  such  motives 
and  excitements,  while  these  motives  and  excite- 
ments themselves  are,  by  proportionate  degrees, 
growing  less  sensible.  And  experience  confirms 
this;  for  active  principles,  at  the  very  time  that 
they  are  less  lively  in  perception  than  they  were, 
arc  found  to  be  somehow  wrought  more  thorough- 


14B  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

ly  into  the  temper  and  cliaracter,  and  become  more 
eflectual  in  influencing  our  practice.  Perception 
of  distress  in  others  is  a  natural  excitement,  pas- 
.sivelj  to  pity,  and  actively  to  believe  it;  but  let 
a  man  set  liimself  to  attend  to,  enquire  out  and 
I'elievc  distressed  persons,  and  he  cannot  but  grow 
less  and  less  sensibly  affected  with  the  various 
miseries  of  life  Vvith  which  he  must  become  ac* 
qiiainted,  Avhen  yet,  at  tlie  same  time,  benevo- 
lence, considered  not  as  a  passion,  but  as  a  prac- 
tical principle  of  action,  will  strengthen;  and 
while  lie  passively  compassionates  the  distressed 
less,  he  will  acquire  a  greater  aptitude  actively 
to  assist  and  befriend  them.'^ — In  the  mind  of  the 
novel  rcadei',  a  totally  different,  not  to  say  oppo- 
riite  result  takes  place,  as  the  effect  of  being  ac- 
customed to  receive  impressions  which  induce  no 
])ractical  exertion.  The  principle  of  benevolence 
is  weakened  by  the  habit  of  contemplating  scencsr^ 
of  distress  and  objects  of  pity,  when  no  opportu- 
nity is  afforded  for  the  exercise  of  that  principle. 
At  the  same  time,  while  an  insensibility  to  moral 
considerations  is  thus  produced,  the  mind,  accus- 
tomed to  cherish  and  yield  to  the  emotions  which 
ire  produced  by  such  impressions,  instead  of  act- 
ing upon  the  excitement,  and  learning  to  resist 
their  influence  On  the  imagination,  becomes  in 
time  the  victim  of  a  morbid  sensibility,  and  is 
less  able  to  cope  with  the  real  sorrows  of  life. 

On  these  grounds,  then,  and  from  the  convic- 
tion that,  by  the  sorrows  of  imagination,  neither 
is  the  mind  strengthened  nor  the  heart  bettered, 
we  deprecate  such  works  as  aim  at  harrowing  up 
the  feelings,  and  familiarizing  the  thoughts  with 
terrific  and  tragical  subjects.  Indeed,  if  there 
be  any  truth  in  the  remark,  that  the  pleasure  de 
vived  from  such  sources  is  in  part  attributable  to  a 


VINDICATED.  149 

3ticret  comparison  of  tlie  danger  or  suffering  ol 
others  with  our  own  ease  or  securitj;,  as  the  plea- 
sure is,  so  far,  of  a  selfish  character^  so,  its  ten- 
dency must  be  to  foster  selfishness.  Accordingly, 
though  the  writers  and  readers  of  pathetic  novels 
may  be  persons  of  much  sensibility,  they  do  not 
in  general  rank  among  the  foremost  in  works  of 
benevolence;  nor  is  the  poet  always  found  a  prac- 
tical philanthropist.     The  unfeeling  and  unnatu- 
ral character  of  the  sentimental  Sterne  is  not  a 
solitary  instance.     The  author  of  Childc  Harold 
presents  another  frightful  specimen  of  a  man  of 
sentiment,  devoid  of  feeling,  of  sensibility,  but 
with  paralysed  affections,  a  man  whose  imagina- 
tion had  eaten  out  his  heart.     In  a  mind  that  is 
under  the  softening  and  regulating  influence  of 
true  piety,  no  such  dii^astrous  effect  as  this  will 
ensue  from  the  indulgence  of  the  imagination;  but 
we  think  that  experience  will  bear  us  out  in  the 
assertion,  that,  as  the  being  conversant  with  the 
dark  pictures  and  tragical  catastrophe  of  fiction 
has  no  tendency  to  prepare  the  mind  to  meet  w  ith 
cheerfulness,  or  to  endure  with  fortitude  the  trials 
of  life,  so,  a  practical  acquaintance  with  real  sor- 
rows and  sufferings,   and  the  habit  of  contempla- 
ting them  with  the  feeling  of  active  benevolence, 
will  generally  produce  a  distaste  for  the  pathetic 
details  of  the  novelist.     We  cannot  conceive,  for 
instance,  of  Howard  weeping  over  a  novel,  or  of 
Mrs.  Fry  melted  to  tears  by  a  tragedy  or  a  tale. 
There  may  be  persons,  then,  who  ^*meet  with  too 
much  of  the  dolorous"  in  the  w^lks  of  daily  life, 
to  relish  or  bear  with  it  in  fiction,  yet,  Against 
whom  the   charge  of  morbid   feeling   cannot  be 
brought     The  fact  is,  that  their  affections  being 
in  full  play,  the  action  of  the  imagination  is  di- 
minished; whereas,  in  the  sentimentalist^  all  the 


150  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

energy  of  the  mind,  as  it  were  determined  to  that 
faculty,  and  the  action  of  the  aifections  is  ren- 
dered languid.  We  do  not  deny  tiiat  there  are 
cases  in  which  the  imagination  needs  a  stimulus, 
and  in  which  the  gentle  excitement  of  the  emo- 
tions of  pity,  terror,  or  melancholy  by  means  of 
works  of  taste,  may  be  innocent  and  even  bene- 
ficial. But  then  let  not  the  poet  or  writer  of  fic- 
tion mistake  his  office  and  his  proper  business. 
Let  him  avail  himself  of  every  opportunity  of  con- 
veying moral  instruction;  but  moral  discipline  is 
not  to  be  learned  in  his  school.  To  expect  that  a 
familiai'ity  with  gibbets  and  death  beds  in  eithep 
poetry  or  prose,  will  conduce  to  the  promotion  of 
benevolence,  of  fortitude,  or  of  pious  principle^ 
is  just  as  reasonable  as  it  would  be  to  imagine, 
that  a  poring  over  stories  of  gliosts  and  goblins 
has  a  tendency  to  beget  courage,  and  that  a  fa- 
miliarity With  ideal  objects  of  terror  i^  the  best 
remedy  for  t!ie  passion  of  fear. 


VINDICATED.  151 


CHAPTER  V. 

Advice  to  mothers  on  the  importance  of  the  intellectu- 
al improvement  of  their  daughters. 


In  suggesting  the  anterior  remarks  on  educa- 
tion, I  have,  nu  ilojibt,  widely  deviated  tVo:n  that 
systematic  plan  and  metltodical  arrangement  pe- 
culiar to  other  autiiurs,  who  Iiave  wj'ittcn  on  the 
subject.  My  senri.nents,  in  m?Jiy  respects,  are 
spontaneous,  and  the  (*ov^i[osid)ri  precipitate,  de- 
sultory, arid  chi'^ilY  i;nti-jHSCf'i'>ed.  Though  I 
have  not  studied  motho  »  h\  the  elucidr^u>»^  a-id 
ampiincatk>n  of  the  subject,  1  have,  though  m  an 
eccentric  manner,  stu'^ied  utiiity  accorairig  t;>  the 
best  of  my  poor  uatural  alMl^t?;'s,  I  b'i?evc  the 
commoiiHlity  of  my  reahis,  will  he  far  sooner 
benelitted  by  thai  unai'Vcteci  and  shnpllned  style 
and  arrangement,  whicii  exhibits  varijiy  a^  ;1  a- 
voids  prolixity,  thougli  iinaivriiodical,  UikOi  the 
most  reilned  an^T  cmr)e!ii->hed  composition,  when 
too  elaborate  and  scientiiic.  In  addressing  that 
venerable  and  truly  respectab'e  class  of  people, 
the  mothers  of  the  rising  generation  I  feel  tliose 
dihident  sensations,  which  a  conscious  sense  of 
their  importance  in  society,  and  my  own  inabili- 
ty naturally  inspire;  however,  convinced  as  I  am 
of  the  rectitude  of  my  own  intentions,  and  well 
meant  endeavors  to  promote  social  intercourse 
and  domestic  ti*anquilUty,  I  am  emboldened  to 
proceed  with  distinguished  deference  to  the  per- 


15^  FEMALE  CHARACTl^R 

sons  to  whom  I  now  address  the  following  stric 
tures. 

Civil  society  is  divided  into  three  distinct  clas- 
ses, to  wit:  the  higher,  the  middlings  and  the 
lower.  The  Jirst  enjoy  the  good  things  of  this  life 
in  destructive  abundance;  the  second,  in  blissful 
mediocrity;  the  third  often  in  deleterious  indi- 
gence.— The  middling  state  is  the  most  secure, 
most  capacitated  for  enjoying  the  benefactions  of 
Providence,  and  consequently  most  preferable. 
In  high  life,  a  thousand  temptations  continually 
intervene  to  draw  the  juvenile  mind  astray,  and 
to  pierce  the  votaries  of  pleasure  with  many  sor- 
rows. It  is  in  vaiii  to  say,  that  their  enjoyments 
are  more  than  paramount  to  theit  disquietudes; 
this  is  not  a  fact;  their  enjoyments  are  merely  i- 
deal,  while  their  infelicities  are  real:  their  abun- 
dant riches  cannot  afford  them  happiness;  for, 

« 'Abundance  cloys  of  riclie^,   love,    or  song", 
We  want  but  little,    nor  want  that  little  long.'* 

as  they  cannot  enjoy  their  riches  with  gratitude, 
nor,  of  course,  with  satisfaction,  they  manufac- 
ture to  themselves  real  out  of  imaginary  evils,  and 
perplex  themselves  with  vexations,  which  mere- 
ly, and  exclusively  originate  in  their  own  proud 
imperious  hearts;  indeed  it  seems  to  me,  that 
this  restless,  unhappy  disposition  is  the  offspring 
of  their  own  ingratitude  and  pride. 

Such  proud  imperious  foes  their  toils  will  know. 
And  every  hand  shall  work  its  share  of  woe. 

I  never  formed  an  idea  of  the  deep  debauchery 
(or  to  call  it  by  its  refined  name,  gallantry)  and 
the  routine  of  dissipation  prevalent  amongst  t\m 


VINDICATED. 

class,  almost  in  general  till  I  read  the  niemoirs^^ 
of  Mrs.  Robinson.  =^'    She  has  portrayed  the  splen- 
did wretchedness,  the  satanic  vanity,  the  pom- 
pous ostentation,  the  systematical  coquetry,  the 


*The  misfortunes,  the  writings,  and  adventures  of 
•Ills  lady  (who  is  only  one  of  thousands  which  might  be. 
adduced)  present  themselves  to  consolidate  my  arg-u- 
ments,  establish  my  hypothesis*  and  put  it  out  of  the 
power  of  even  duplicity  to  doubt,  effrontery  to  preva- 
ricate, or  profiig-acy  to  equivocate,  respecting"  the  co- 
g-ency  of  my  familiar  arguments.  The  lady  alluded  to 
was,  perhaps,  the  handsomest  woman  in  England,  She 
was  emphatically  called  <*The  beautiful  Mrs.  Robinson." 
The  ingenuousness  and  purity  of  her  heart,  v/hen  she 
first  launched  into  the  boisterous  sea  of  fashion,  with 
the  profound  ingenuity  of  her  head,  were  only  equalled 
by  the  unparalleled  charms  of  her  person.  Her  litera- 
ry performances,  particularly  her  poetical  pieces  are^, 
in  my  opinion,  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  the  produc- 
tions of  any  of  her  sex.  I  will  not  even  except  the  in- 
genious  Madame  Dacier,  who  translated  Homer  from 
the  Greek  into  the  French  language;  or  Miss  Francis^, 
who  translated  from  the  Hebrew  the  songs  of  SolomoHi. 
Vs'ith  notes,   critical  and  explanatory. 

The  names  of  these  ingenious  women  I  mention  with 
the  greatest  respect;  and  would  eochibit  them  as  lite- 
rary models  for  those  young  females,  who  wish  to  make 
a  proficiency  in  erudition;  and,  in  addition,  I  would 
enumerate  the  names  of  Mrs.  Cowley,  Griffiths,  Bar- 
bauld,  Dobson,  Carter,  Montague,  Chapone,  Smith, 
Inchbald,  Leaper,  Madan,  Masters,  Monk,  Phillips, 
Rowe,  Countess  of  Winchelsea,  Dutchess  of  New-Cas- 
tie,  Miss  Moore,  Seward,  Williams,  Lee  and  Burney. 
While  I  exhibit  these  characters  for  the  young  female 
to  imitate,  in  their  scientific  researches,  I  would  add, 
that  were  it  possible  for  her  to  possess  the  information 
of  them  all,   with  the  personal  beauty  of  an  angel,  and 


154  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

deep  and  black  crimes  which  are  not  only  fre-- 
qucnt,  but  also  fashionable  amongst  the  right 
honorable,  the  right  worshipful,  and  right  rever- 
end votaries  of  seduction.     However,   1  w ill  for- 


yet  be  destitute  of  virtue,  her  beauty  and  learning*  would 
only  tend  to  make  her  more  despicable  in  tlie  eyes  of 
the  world,  inexcusable  in  tlie  cstmiation  of  the  honor- 
able and  virtuous  part  of  society,  and  a  hundred-iold 
more  guilty  in  the  sig-lit  of  Ht:aven;  for  where  much  in' 
formation  is  given  the  more  virtue  is  required  by  the  Al- 
mighty, who  will  punish  those  who  know  their  master's 
will  and  do  it  not,  with  many  stripes.  I  need  not  say 
much  respecting  the  series  of  misfortunes  and  splendid 
calamities  that  chequered  Mrs.  Robinson's  life,  which 
was  short  indeed,  but  full  of  sorrow.  I  would  refer 
the  reader  to  her  memoirs  in  2d  vol.  written  by  herself. 
For  my  part  i  confess,  that  I  never  perused  the  life  and 
misfortunes  of  any  person  that  has  more  sensibly  mov- 
ed my  sympathy.  The  resolute  manner  in  which  she, 
for  a  long  time,  repelled  the  attacks  on  her  virtue  (af- 
ter she  entered  the  fashionable  world,)  by  right  hon. 
villains,  lordly  debauchees,  and  illustrious,  libertines; 
and  the  apparent  reluctance  with  which  she  surrender- 
ed her  honor,  though  assailed  by  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
who,  after  using  every  stratagem  that  an  adept  at  se- 
duction could  devise,  presented  her  with  a  bond  of 
20,000  pounds  sterling,  professing  much  love  and  vow- 
ing eternal  constancy.  I  say  the  long  and  vigorous 
stand  she  made,  though  assailed  by  such  invincible, 
such  potent  temptations,  and  the  neglect,  profligacy, 
and  barbarity  of  a  scornful  Iiusband,  which  tended  to 
sharpen  the  darts  of  seduction,  very  much  prepossess- 
ed me  in  her  favor  and  inspired  me  with  pity  for  her 
misfortunes.  But  the  Tneanness  her  seducer  manifested 
after  he  ruined  her  (for  who«e  sake  she  not  only  sacri 
ficed  her  honor,  but  also  a  lucrative  establisment,)  beg 
gars  all  description.     He,   soon  after  her  degradatior. 


VINDICATED.  ibo 

bear  to  particularize  them,  but  vsubstitute  more 
interesting  matter.  Pursuing  therefore,  my  stric- 
tures, the  dishonor  resulting  particular!}  to  the 
female  character,  recurs  in  defiance  of  every  ef- 
fort to  suppress  it.  Hence,  it  seems  impossible 
almost  to  avoid  tautology.  The  alarmist.  1  know, 
sees  evils  which  never  will  he  realized;  but  on 
the  other  hand,  the  slavish  dupe  of  seductive  fash- 
ion never  sees  them  till  they  iiave  taken  effect. 
In  which  case  the  magnitude  of  the  evils,  is  ac- 
cording to  the  degeneracy  of  the  fashion.  It  is 
certain,  that  a  host  of  infelicities  with  their  con- 
scripts, recruits,  and  auxiliaries,  crowd  upon 
the  votaries  of  fashion  and  dissipation,  line  after 
line,   and  rank- after  rank,  in  swift  succession. 

When  a  distinguislied  female  persor^age,  eleva- 
ted to  the  first  dignity  in  the  commiinity,  and,  of 
course,  popular  and  powerfuK  introduces  fash- 
ions, however*  ludicrous  and  obscene,  those  fan- 
tastical females  placed  near  her,  or  even  her  most 
distant  associates,  will  necessarily  more  and  more 


forsook  her.  and  even  had  the  baseness  to  get  the  bond 
of  20,000  ponnds  returned,  and  gave  in  its  room  an  an- 
niiit)'  of  5U0  pounds.  Lord  Lyttleton  behaved  towards 
lier  with  artifice,  Fitzg-erald  with  violence,  and  many 
other  rig-ht  honorable  and  noble  debauchees  with  dis- 
simulation^ but  none  behaved  with  such  baseness  as  his 
royal  hig-hness.  The  imprudence  of  her  parents,  a 
premature  and  precipitate  marriag-e,  the  early  intro- 
duction into  the  fashionable  world,  laid  the  foundation 
of  her  subsequent  calamities,  and  premature  death, 
which  happened  in  the  bloom  of  her  youths  Her  con- 
stitution participated  in  the  ruin  of  her  honor.  She 
languished  till  reduced  almost  to  a  skeleton;  and  died.j 
I  believe,   a  true  penitent. 


156  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

asshiiulatc,  though  at  first  shocked  with  the  ob- 
^cenity  of  sucli  fashions.  These  debasing  fash- 
ions, progiTHsiug  like  a  gangrene,  will  extend 
from  one  female  to  another,   tlirongh  every  grade* 

We  need  not  look  far  to  prove  the  authenticity 
of  these  remarks-  is  it  not  a  stubborn  fact,  that 
the  conduct  of  these  first  rate  fashionables,  pai^a- 
lyze  and  infatuate  every  grade  of  society?  I  would 
ask  these  fashionable  matrons,  where  is  the  pru- 
dence that  animated  your  ancestors?  Dispelled 
before  the  baneful  notions  of  false  refinement. 
Where  is  the  prudence  that  characterized  your 
ancestors?  Dispelled  before  the  baneful  notions  of 
false  refinement.  Where  is  the  prudence  that 
characterized  your  progenitors,  who  taught  you 
(though  in  vain)  lessons  of  discretion?  Where  is 
the  energy^and  invincibility  that  triumphed  over 
female  imbecility  and  vanity?  In  short,  where  is 
the  domestic  economy  and  virtue  which  signalized 
your  mothers?  Lulled,  gently  lulled  to  fatal  slum- 
l)er  in  the  lap  of  venality,  and  voluptuous  fash- 
ionable theory. 

What  virtuous  mother  does  not  iiang  her  head 
in  solemn  sadness  at  the  thought!  what  cheek 
does  not  wear  the  crimson  blush,  at  the  degener- 
acy of  the  sex!  In  the  bosoms  that  beat  with  the 
vital  force  of  female  virtue,  a  noble  disdain  should 
arise,  at  the  remembrance  of  their  domestic  be- 
trayers and  seducers.  Mothers,  this  is  not  a 
time  to  sit  inactive,  and  see  the  last  struggles  of 
every  thing  dear  to  you — the  expiring  honors  of 
your  female  progeny.  You  should  endeavor,  w  ith 
more  than  maternal  solicitude  to  snatch  from  ru- 
in, or  preserve  entire  their  sacred  virtue.  As  the 
manner,  with  anxious  solicitude  throws  out  any 
floating  pieces  of  the  w  reck  to  save  his  drowning 
shipmate;  who  swept  aw^ay  by  a  foaming  billow^ 


VINDICATED.  t5r 

while  the  decks  are  white  with  foam,  and  the  rude 
winds  howl  about  the  masts,  and  sing  through 
every  shroud :  he  struggles  with  the  angry  waves, 
and  whistling  winds,  till  he  is  at  last  saved  thro' 
the  assiduity  and  perseverance  of  his  faithful  com- 
-l)anion.  Thus,  let  mothers  use  every  effort  to 
save  the  honor  and  virtue  of  their  daughters,  who 
are  almost  enveloped  in  the  vortex  of  popular  de- 
gradation and  infamy.  I  am  not  speaking  of 
those  females  who  liavc  plunged  into  the  dreadful 
abyss  of  personal  prostitution;  but  rather  of  those 
who  pursue  the  direct  patli  tliat  leads  thereto: 
which  is,  to  become  the  slavish  dupes  of  the  ob- 
scene, the  depraved  fasliions  of  the  day.  Let 
therefore,  such  virtuous  mothers,  who  have  a 
spark  of  ancient  prudence  untarnished  and  unex- 
tinguished, shed  resplendent  light  on  the  benight'- 
cd  paths  of  the  juvenile  females  of  the  rising  gen 
eration.  Sometimes,  when  I  view  parading  the 
streets,  ladies  of  the  first  respectability,  dressed 
in  such  an  obscene  manner,  as  almost  enough  to 
make  an  harlot  blush,  I  ask  myself,  can  these 
ladies  be  really  prudent,  who  can  thus  sacrifice 
every  virtuous  and  modest  feeling  at  the  shrine  of 
fasliion,  and  excite  a  blush  on  the  cheek  even  of 
lewdness?— -surely  not.  "The  tree  is  kiioivn  by 
itsfruit.^* — Actions  speak  louder  than  professions 
— a  woman  may  profess  to  be  cxem])}ary  and  vir- 
tuous; but  surely  when  we  see  tliat  a  woman  ap- 
pears in  the  most  immodest  attire,  and  displays 
her  charms  indiscriminately,  in  tlie  most  obvious 
manner,  to  the  eager  and  amorous  inspection  of 
thousands  of  gazing  and  criticising  libertines;  we 
cannot  believe,  thougli  we  liear  vociferated  daily, 
that  this  woman  is  a  virtuous  and  respectable 
character;  and  though  she  displayed  elegance  in 
her  figure,  sind  enchanting  beauty  in  her  counie* 

14 


158  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

nance,  to  surpass  the  beautiful  Helen;  every  iM^a- 
sonabie  man  would  admire  the  smallest  share  of 
personal  symmetry  in  a  prudent  female,  more 
than  all  her  exposed  charms. 

^*Not  for  such  ladies  we  would  sigb, 
r^oving"  only  fashion's  dye, 
And  their  charms  to  evtry  eye 

Revealing, 

But  we  love  the  prudent  nnaid 

In  sweet  modesty  array 'd, 

JS.11  her  beauty  'neath  her  shade 

Concealing. 

Lady,    when  with  graceful  care 
You  would  deck  your  bosom  fair. 
Or  your  golden  curling  hair 

With  roses. 

Ah!   you  throw  the  flower  away 

When  it  glares  in  open  day: 

The  modest  bud  more  sweets,    we  say 

Discloses. 

The  lily  trampled  in  the  street. 
The  rose  beneath  the  travUer's  feet 
^r  beauty  sold  too  cheap,    ne'er  meet 

Our  praise's. 

Thus  chririr.s  expos'd  are  in  disgrace, 
The  sparkling  eye,    and  ruddy  face, 
if  void  of  prudence,   all  your  race 

Disgraced. 

Such  nymphs  may  charm  th'  unhallow'd  hearti 
But  confidence  can  ne^er  impart. 
Nor  captivate  with  beauty's  dart, 

A  husbaD<l^ 


VINDICATED.  i  5.) 

And  should  he  be  ensnar'd  by  show, 
The  spark  of  love  he'll  soon  forego, 
And  blame  his  partner  lor  his  woe, 

And  her  bran<ll 

For  beauty  soon  familiar  grows, 
And  fades  as  hourly  fades  the  rose; 
But  virtue  still  more  sweets  disclose 

Till  doomsdaV. 

And  then  the  virtuous  shall  enjoy 

Celestial  peace  without  alloy. 

And  with  bright  saints  their  hours  employ 

In  their  lay.*' 

These  are  only  a  few  of  the  most  obvious  evilg 
resulting  from  the  sacrifice  too  many  females  make 
at  the  shrine  of  fashion.  A  train  of  evils  still 
more  tragical  succeeds,  and  it  must  be  an  under* 
standing  benumbed  by  repeated  deviations  fro^B 
the  paths  of  female  rectitude,  that  would  fail  t« 
discern  them,  a  heart  that  has  banished  con- 
scious propriety,  that  would  refuse  to  feel  them, 
and  a  cojiscience  opposed  to  the  rules  of  modesty, 
as  well  as  the  laws  of  God,  that  would  neglect  to 
regard  them.  I  am  well  convinced,  that  by  de- 
claiming against  the  vices  of  the  age,  particular- 
ly our  darling  fashions,  I  erect  an  impregnable 
barrier  to  preclude  praise  and  profit,  and  in  their 
room  accumulate  formidable  enemies.  Let  oth- 
ers flatter*to  deceive  and  gain  praise  and  profit 
thereby,  I  will  faithfully  point  out)jiccording  to 
my  ability  the  devious  paths  of  folly;  and  though 
I  am  well  apprised,  that  many  parents  will  put 
books  into  the  hands  of  their  children,  that  will 
tend  to  entice  them  from  the  paths  of  female  recti- 
tude, in  preference  to  mine,  yet  this  considera- 
tion, or  Jndeed  any  other,  shall  not  hinder  me 


ibO  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

from  giving  the  uritliougiitfiil  and  unconscious  lie- 
male  afaitliful  warning,  hoping  that  this  perform- 
ance may  be  presented  to  some,  even  of  the  gay 
votaries  of  fashion,  by  those  v,  ho  are  more  seri- 
ously inclined,  and  being  perused,  though  j^er- 
haps  only  superficially,  may  stop  them  in  their| 
mad  career. 

Where  my  propositions  are  not  supported  by 
the  most  reasonable  arguments,  and  my  hypothe- 
sis proved  from  experience,  I  do  not  wish  any  to 
believe  them;  but,  where  this  is  the  case,  I  flat- 
ter myself,  I  shall  be  heard  by  the  unprejudiced, 
Ihougli  my  strictures  are  unadorned  with  the  flow- 
ers of  rhetoric.  Indeed,  truth  is  most  beautiful, 
when  most  simple.  Fiction  and  poetic  poison, 
jiot  truth,  require  the  embellishment  of  fancy. 
And,  alas!  how  many  females  have  been  ruined 
by  these  means,  namely,  the  splendid  exhibition 
ef  sterling  talents  and  moral  poison,  connected 
by  the  ingeiiious  murderers  of  the  human  soul,  by 
''^roetic  panders,  rlsyniing  debauchees,"' 

"Here!    let  us  glance  at  Little's  songs  of  lovCj 
.r\nd  famous  Moore,  -tiie  poet  of  the  grove; 
And  thank  the  honest  Scot,    who  drew  the  veil 
WhicK  hid  the  moral  poison  of  his  tale. 
May  specious  vice  thus  ever  meet  its  fate, 
And  bear  the  public  scorn,    the  public  hate. 
He  ware  Columbia's  fair,    and  never  move^ 
A  heart  to  cherish  interdicted  love. 
Oh!    may  you  never  have  the  fate  to  please 
Poetic  panders,    rhyming  debauchees; 
-But  still  let  modesty  her  banners  rear, 
And  give  the  signal  when  such  foes  appear." 
Ingenious  murderers,  sland'rers  of  the  wise,  1 

While  grasping  fame  they  break  all  social  ties,     |» 
'^And  own  no  rites,   bwt  such  as  vice  supplies."  j 


VINDICATED.  lt)l 

To  gain  that  phantom,   intellectual  fame, 

They  nvostltute  their  souls  and  their  good  name: 

Nay,  Jhand  it  down  to  ages  yet  unborn, 

The  object  of  their  hate,   disgust,    and  scorn, 

Who,    it*  contaminated  by  the  tale, 

Or  moral  poison  which  their  works  conceal; 

They'll  curse  their  ashes  mould'ring  in  the  tomb, 

And  blame  them  for  their  woes  and  latent  doom; 

And  at  Jehovah's  bar,    they'll  them  impeach 

As  the  first  cause  of  vice  their  writings  teach; 

Whose  poison  makes  their  fame*  a  doubtful  meed, 

*•  Whose  censure  is  our  best  applause  indeed." 

Ye  motiiers,  who  are  indifTerent  and  regard- 
less of  the  iutellectaal  improvement  ol'your  daugh- 
ters, it  is  you  who  are  most  culpable,  when  your 
daughters  imbibe  the  moral  poison  of  such  auth- 
ors: it  is  you  that  have  most  opportunities  to  put 
books  of  a  contrary  description  into  their  hands; 
and,  it  is  you,  in  particular,  who  wiilha^eto 
answer  at  the  august  tribunal  of  Jehovah,  for  the 
pernicious  consequences  of  your  neglect  and  im- 
prudence; do  not,  I  conjure  you,  treat  these  ob- 
servations with  a  fatal  and  fool-hardy  indiiier- 
ence;  the  observance  of  them  will  i>romote  your 
social  haj)piness  through  life,  enable  you  to  leave 
a  virtuous  offspring  behind  you  at  your  death, 
without  any  forebodings  of  mind  respecting  their 
future  conduct,  and  \\\\\  capacitate  you,  o!i  the 
day  of  resurrection,  to  be  enabled  to  say,   **Herej 


*But  admitting  that  they  were  rendered  the  most  fa- 
mous and  popular  aftl^  their  decease,  what  a  poor  sa- 
tisfaction it  would  be  to  know,  that  degenerate  mortals 
eulogized  their  writings,  while  they  had  to  answer  at 
the  bar  of  God  for  their  pernicious  tendencies. 


i^ii^  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Lortl,  are  the  cliildrcn  thou  intrusted  to  my  care,^ 
and  I  have  not  lost  one  through  my  neglect  or 
imprudence;''  and  the  consequence  \vill  be,  vice 
versa,  in  the  event  of  j)ursuing  a  contrary  line  of 
conduct.  If  your  daughters  were  mere  crea- 
tures of  solitude,  in  whose  vice  or  virtue,  happi- 
ness or  misery,  life  or  death,  no  human  being 
was  interested,  if  their  moral  contamination  did 
not  tend  to  contaminate  otliers;  were  they  even, 
as  the  Mahometans  suppose,  material  beings,  di- 
vested of  immortal  pai*ts;  if  no  bosom  glowed  at 
their  prosperity,  or  bled  at  their  misery;  if  no 
mourner  wei)tin  the  event  of  tlteirdejiarting  from 
tlie  paths  of  female  virtue;  or,  if  they  did  not 
])rove  a  most  formidable  snare  to  others  w  hen  they 
thus  de{)arted;  if  all,  or  any  of  these  suppositions 
Avere  facts;  yet  then,  even  then  they  are  creatures 
susceptible  of  feelings;  and,  by  being  put  in  a 
wrong  channel  in  youth,  may  spend  their  follow- 
ing years  in  misery:  and,  vice  versaAi'  they  are  di- 
rected in  the  right  path:  for,  even  leaving  futuri- 
ty out  of  view,  A  irtue  is  happiness  and  vice  is 
misery  in  this  our  mortal  state. 

It  is  my  firm  belief,  (and  that  belief  is  support- 
ed by  scripture,  reason,  and  common  sense,)  that 
it  is  the  duty  of  every  one,  w  ho  exi)ects  to  meet 
the  approbation  of  our  merciful  God,  to  be  merci- 
ful, not  only  to  tlieir  own,  but  the  children  of 
the  heljiess  w  idow .  Our  commisseration  we  can- 
not withdraw  from  them  without  sin,  and  tjjyp  for- 
feiture of  future  happiness;  for,  surely,  we  can- 
not be  so  void  of  common  sense  as  to  suppose, 
that  a  God  of  unsullied  veracity  will  tell  a  jklse- 
liood,  in  the  presence  of  assembled  worlds,  to 
save  a  cruel,  guilty,  impenitent  culprit. 

How  often  is  it  tJie  case,  that  mothers,  either 
virtually,  or  literally,  by  their  neglect  or  impru 


VINDICATED.  163 

dencc,  lay  stumbling  blocks  before  their  children; 
and,  when  they  turn  aside  from  the  paths  of  fe- 
male rectitude,  they  exclaim  against  them  alone, 
and  impute  a?l  their  sorrows  to  tiieir  disobedient 
children;  their  heftrts  are  pierced  with  agony; 
their  grey  hairs  are  brought  with  sorrow  to  the 
grave;  they  have  lost  from  the  paths  of  virtue 
their  only  daughtej*;  and  with  her  the  support 
and  delight  of  their  declining  years.  Instead  of 
giving  the  rich  reward  (for  all  their  parental  toil 
and  tender  solicitude)  of  a  discreet  and  dutiful 
life,  she  gives  her  body  to  prostitution,  her  char- 
acter to  infamy,  and  her  soul  to  endless  torment. 
She  has  destroyed  the  domestic  happiness  of  her 
parents,  and  caused  their  rising  hopes  to  set  in 
f=»orrow;  but,  perhaps,  it  is  almost,  if  not  alto- 
gether, t'ue  parents  fault,  for  the  premature  ruin 
of  their  only  daughter;  did  they  not  let  her  have 
her  own  will  gratified  in  infancy?  and,  at  the 
dawn  of  reason,  did  they  not  suffer  her  to  peruse 
the  most  vile  and  volujituous  poems  and  novels? 
did  they  not  liarbor  the  adept  at  seduction  under 
their  roof,  and  suffer  him  to  take  such  liberty 
with  their  daughter,  in  private  and  public,  as  he 
choose,   till  slie  was 

•*LurM  by  the  vUJaln  from  her  native  homel" 

Did  they  not  suffer;  nay,  pehaps,  encourage  her 
to  follow  the  most  obscene  and  vulgar  fashions? 
or,  perh^aps,  (which  is  sometimes  the  case)  forc- 
ed her,  though  only  17,  to  marry  a  rich  old  man, 
70  years  of  age,   contrary  to  her  inclinations  and 

^^ections,   which  were  previously  bestowed  upon 

^^Hfcore  worthy  object! 

^^^f  all  or  any  of  this  imprudent  and  injudicious 
conduct  was  applicable  to  the  wretched  parents 
I  have  been  depicting,  they  arc  themselves  th^ 


164  FEMALE    CHARACTER 

primary  cause  of  their  daughter's  disgrace;  and, 
no  doubt,  will  have  to  answer  for  tlie  same  at  the 
I)ar  of  God.  It  were  not  to  be  wondered  at,  if 
the  shrieking  spectre  of  their  ruined  child  raised 
up  before  the  anguished  eyes  of  her  ])arents,  the 
enormous  complication  of  nameless  crimes,  which 
eventually  became  the  offspring  of  their  neglect, 
and  w  hen  deleterious  disease  hurries  her  from  pre- 
sent degradaticn  to  future  condemnation;  it  were 
not  to  be  wondered  at,  if  she  escaped  her  trocibied 
giave,  to  impeach  them  with  her  blood;  to  haunt 
their  bed  through  declining  life;  to  chill  their 
waking  moments,  and  alarm  them  in  their  mid- 
liight  slumbers. 

Ye  cruel  and  injudicious  mothers,  who  act  in 
this  manner  to  your  daughters,  how  can  you  re- 
concile such  conduct  to  common  prudence,  com- 
mon sense,  or  rationality?  I  will  not  say  reli- 
gion. If  you  bring  them  up  the  slaves  of  indo- 
lence, how  can  you  expect  that  they  will  mecha- 
nically become  industrious,  when  suddenly  their 
riches  take  wings  and  fly  away?  But,  admitting 
their  riches  were  to  remain  stationary,  which 
no  man  can  boast  of,  yet  even  then  industry  is 
the  main  prop  of  life,  braces  the  nerves,  and  in- 
Yiii:orates  the  whole  system;  while  idleness  relax- 
es  and  debilitates  it.  Do  you  not  know^  that  the 
parents  who  do  not  ])rovide  for  the  safety  of  their 
children,  are  worse  than  infidels?  Canyon,  with- 
out feeling  tlie  yearnings  of  your  bowels  towards 
your  oifspring,  lead  them  to  the  slippery  j>reci- 
pice  of  fashion,  down  which  if  they  fall,  they  arc 
plunged  into  an  abyss  of  irrecoverable  despair, 
perpetual  inliimy,  with  the  signature  of  their  de- 
gradation stamped  upon  their  foreheads,  prosti- 
tution, desolation,  and  woe!  Concuj)iscence  is 
the   preliminary,  if  not  the  foundation,    of  the 


VINDICATED-  16 

vile  and  vulgar  fashions  of  the  day,  which  are  au 
insult  to  common  sense,  and  an  outrage  to  com- 
mon decency;  for  what  else  can  induce  a  woman 
of  an  enlightened  understanding,  to  expose  those 
parts  that  virtue  bids  her  screen.  I  will  not  say, 
that  it  is  this  propensity  which  stimulates  the 
young,  thoughtless,  volatile,  and  gay,  as  they 
merely  imitate  their  progenitors.  Their  appear- 
ance is  the  appearance  of  wantonness;  their  dis- 
position we  must  believe  to  be  the  disposition  of 
wantonness;  and,  though  their  motives  are  labo- 
riously varnished  over,  and  imputed  to  a  love  of 
elegance  and  grandeur,  they  cannot  conceal  the 
gross  materials  thereof,  or  deceive  the  most  su- 
perficial observer.  For  nothing  can  be  more 
plain,  than,  that  the  female  who  used  such  atti- 
tudes, appearances,  and  appendages  as  will  tend 
to  excite  lust  in,  and  awake  the  sleeping  passions 
of  amorous  men,  must,  in  some  measure,  partici- 
pate these  destructive  feelings;  and,  w^erc  it  not 
for  tlie  popularity  of  the  fashions  I  deprecate  and 
invalidate,  the  woman  that  would  thus  expose 
herself,  would,  unquestionably,  be  ranked  as  a 
lewd  character,  if  not  the  most  common  prosti- 
tute. Remove,  therefore,  only  the  popularity  of 
the  fashion,  and  you  make  its  votaries  lewd  wo- 
men, even  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  Thus,  the 
popularity  of  African  slavery  renders  the  man 
innocent  that  enslaves  man;  and  thus  the  popu- 
larity of  female  fashion,  renders  the  female  who 
appears  in  the  garb,  and  with  the  attitudes  of  las- 
civiousness,  unimpeachably  virtuous  and  modest. 
But  I  would  ask,  does,  or  can  vice  (because  po- 
pular among  the  wicked.)  be  metamorphosed  to 
virtue;  or  lewdness  to  modesty?  It  is  impossi- 
ble. If,  therefore,  my  reasoning  is  correct,  and 
Lcanuot  see  how  it  can  be  inconect;  women  who 


166  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

become  votaries  of  lascivious  fashion,  are*  in  the 
estimation  of  every  reasonable  and  discerning 
man,  as  reprehensible  as  if  the  fashion  was  not 
countenanced  by  public  degeneracy  of  manners. 
But  the  evil  tendency  of  this  depravity  is  most 
sensibly  felt  by  the  rising  generation,  who  prac- 
tise  the  evil  unconscious  of  the  effects  thereof, 
They  swallow  the  fatal  bait,  but  see  not  tlie  hook 
with  which  tliey  are  caught  by  libertinism,  till  it 
is  .too  late.  Oh,  ye  cruel  mothers !  you  must  shut 
your  eyes  against  the  truth,  and  basely  insult 
your  own  understandings  and  common  sense,  not 
to  see  the  cogency  of  this  remark.  We  turn  with 
disgust  and  abhorrence  at  the  appearance  of  the 
infamous  character  of  a  hoary  headed  woman, 
whose  business  it  is  to  trepan  and  ruin  the  un- 
guarded, the  friendless,  the  fatherless  young  fe- 
male; but  what  a  striking  similarity  is  there  be- 
tween snz\\  a  wretch  and  too  many  parents!  She 
ensnares  literally;  they  virtually.  The  latter 
accomplishes  in  the  long,  what  the  former  does 
in  the  short  run.  And  one  is  in  miniature  what 
the  other  is  in  magnitude.  It  is  a  melancholy, 
a  stubborn  fact,  that  the  cruelty  of  mothers,  and 
obscenity  of  female  fashions,  manufacture  a  super 
abundance  of  prostitutes,  without  the  aid  of  such 
detestable  auxiliaries  as  the  hoary  headed  dame 
we  have  just  glanced  at. 

If  all  I  have  said  has  not  moved  the  sympathy, 
awakened  the  sensibility,  aroused  the  finer  feel- 
ings of  maternal  solicitude,  and  illuminated  th^ 
understandings  of  the  characters  to  whom  these 
strictures  are  particularly  addressed;  let  me  then 
request  you  to  accompany  me,  in  sympathetic 
thought,  to  the  scenes  of  debauchery  and  prostitu- 
tion, which  you  perhaps  have,  or  at  least  will 
feelp  to  create,  if  you  persist  in  pursuing  that  line 


Vindicated,  icr 

of  conduct  which  infallibly  leads  to  ruin.  View, 
I  conjure  you,  the  smiling,  the  beauteous  coun- 
tenances of  your  female  infants;  and  then  with 
your  mind's  eye,  survey  the  moral  mischief  which 
indelicate  fashions  produce  in  society,  and  ask 
your  own  hearts  this  pathetic  question:  can  I, 
shall  I,  by  my  neglect  or  imprudence,  consign 
these  innocents  to  such  a  woeful,  such  a  shameful 
end? 

But,  in  order  to  illustrate  my  arguments,  from 
facts,  as  well  as  speculative  reasoning,  go  with 
me  to  yonder  part  of  the  city.  ^  is  well  known 
for  the  multitudes  of  unfortunate  females  that  flock 
thither,  in  which  numbers  of  the  unhappy  per- 
sons  i  am  exhibiting  to  view  reside. 

As  it  would  only  confuse  our  ideas,  and  preclude 
us  from  reasoning  correctly  on  the  subject,  to  ex- 
amine the  wretchedj  degraded  group  collectively, 
or  even  to  select  an  individual  of  them,  who  de- 
formed by  habitual  prostitution,  and  debilitated 
by  complicated  disease,  is  now  metamorphosed 
from  a  beautiful  young  woman  (which  she  was  in 
her  happy  days,  while  under  the  paternal  and  re- 
putable roof  of  her  affectionate  parents)  to  an  ob- 
ject of  deformity,  the  glimpse  of  whom  is  enough 
to  excite  horror  and  consternation  in  the  breast 
of  a  midnight  J^ssassin. 

Passing  by,  therefore,  the  most  gloomy  and 
horrible  part  of  the  tragical  scene,  we  will  view 
the  most  favorable  side  of  the  picture,  by  selects 
ing  a  young  and  beautiful  female  just  launched 
into  the  gulph  of  di.-ssipation,  from  tlie  interdict- 
ed walks  of  fashion;  we  will  not  take  her  portrait 
in  the  midst  of  her  reprobate  companions  or  noc- 
turnal revellings,  as  the  scenes  of  debauchery 
there  lisplayed  would  shock  female  delicacy;  but 
we  will  behold  her  in  a  sequestered  grove,  near 


16&  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

the  vestibule  of  her  prison,  the  repository  of  dis- 
sipation. See  the  tears  of  remorse  stealing  si- 
lently down  her  way-woi«»  cheeks.  Read,  for 
you  may  read,  in  her  faded  countenance,  the 
torturing  anguish  of  her  breaking  heart.  Read- 
er, canst  thou  survey  the  intellectual,  nay,  the 
real  picture  I  am  drawing,  and  not  feel  tender 
pity  melt  your  glowing  heart,  and  the  tears  of 
commisseration  drench  your  strc<aming  eyes?  For 
my  part,  w  hile  I  write,  my  heart  palpitates  with 
anguish  at  the  consideration,  that  thousands  of 
such  portraits  are  to  be  found  in  real  life.  But  to 
return,  for  sympathy  retarded  me  in  giving  the 
portrait  of  a  debased  ruined  fellow  creature. 

She  still  weeps  with  her  head  reclined  upon 
her  hand,  and  her  elbow  propped  on  her  book, 
her  soul  detests  the  line  of  life  she  has  commenc- 
ed. She  abhors  herself,  her  companions,  her 
crimes;  but  above  all  her  vile  seducer.  But  a 
few  days  ago,  she  shared  all  the  blessings  and 
joys  of  life:  and,  what  is  the  best  of  all,  an  un- 
blemished reputation.  She  was  surrounded  by 
neighbors  who  respected,  friends  who  loved,  and 
jiarents  who  adored  her.  Tiicy  found  in  her  their 
rvcry  joy,  and  the  balm  of  their  sorrow.  She 
hung  on  their  hands,  and  received  their  benedic- 
tions. Slie  inspired  all  their  enjoyments,  and 
animated  all  their  hopes.  But  now,  alas!  for- 
ever  banished  from  all  these  scenes  of  delight  and 
exultation,  by  the  artifice  of  a  villain;  who,  en- 
ticed by  her  fashionable  appearance,  thought  lier 
a  suitable  person  to  try  liis  arts  upon.  He  too 
soon  succeeded  in  his  diabolical  designs;  for  she 
was  artles,  nor  suspected  danger  to  be  near.  Be- 
ing once  seduced  from  the  paths  of  virtue,  filled 
with  conscious  guilt  and  shame,  she  flies  the  in- 
dignant presence  o£  her  honorable  parents,  aiid 


VINDICATED.  160 

seeks  that  refuge  in  a  brothel,  \vhich  she  relin- 
quished in  lier  paternal  home.  She  mourns  and 
pines,  but  pines  and  mourns  in  vain.  Now  left 
abandoned,  desolate,  depraved. 

<*No  eye  to  mark  her  sufferings  with  a  tear, 
No  friends  to  pity  her,  nor  hope  to  cheer;*' 

she  seeks,  as  her  only  alternative,  to  drown  her 
sorrows  in  repeated  dilutions  of  ardent  spirits, 
as  the  antidote  of  her  woes,  as  the  solace  of  her 
anguish,  as  the  most  efficacious  means  of  obliter- 
ating the  remembrance  of  her  former  happiness, 
her  better  days.  But,  alas!  she  mistakes  the 
poison  for  the  medicine;  and,  while  attempting 
to  erase  from  her  mind  iha  remembrance  and 
guilt  of  one  crime,  she  perpetrates  another- 

<*Thus  sin  has  aUvays  this  attending  cursej 
To  back  the  first  transgression  with  a  worse^ 
Thus  rivulets  grow  larger  by  degrees. 
From  creeks  to  rivers,    rivers  into  seas." 

Thus  she  becomes  tlie  premature  martyr  of  in- 
toxication as  well  as  prostitution^  View  her,  at 
the  door  of  tlie  tippling  shop,  extended  on  the 
gr(Hyid;  not  only  stupid,  but  senseless  through 
ebriety;  a  prey  to  every  unprincipled  ruffian^ 
and  a  spectacle  for  evei'y  unpitying  passenger. 
But  here  I  must  cease  giving  this,  and  take  a- 
nothcr  part  of  her  portrait;  for  my  heart  begins 
almost  to  weep  tears  of  blood,  at  the  true  and 
tragical  picture  I  am  drawing.  I  will  also  for- 
bear delineating  the  scandalous  and  beastly  crimes 
which  attend  her  footstep.'^,  from  the  present  pe- 
riod to  that  in  which  she  is  arrested,  in  the  mad 
career,  by  that  del^^terious  disorder  peculiar  to 
Jgr  profession.     Hey  delicate  constittition  cannot 


170  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

support  itself,  under  t1)e  scenes  of  debaudiery  and 
infamy  in  which  she  is  necessarily  iiivolved.  Her 
emaciated  and  languid  appearance,  bespeak  her 
disorder,  and  is  the  mittimus  to  have  her  convey- 
ed to  the  Poor-house.  Here  I  will  draw  her  pic- 
ture, as  it  really  happened  in  the  Alms-house  in 
Philadelphia,  where  myself  and  a  bosom  friend 
(as  exemplary  for  Isis  disinterested  philanthropy 
as  lie  was  for  his  unaffected  piety)  attended  eve- 
ry Sunday,  and  visited  the  sick  and  afflicted  in 
their  a])artments,  exhorting  them  to  repentance 
and  reformation,  and  praying  with  and  for  them. 
We  w  ould  often,  in  one  forenoon,  address  hun- 
<lreds  of  poor  unhappy  children  of  misfortune- 
One  part  of  this  chai'itable  institution  v»e  particu- 
larly attended,  called  *'the  surgical  ward,'*  on  ac- 
count of  the  wretched  beings  who  were  accommo- 
dated there,  whicli  generally  consisted  of  worn 
down  and  emaciated  prostitutes,  who  were  taken 
n\)  by  tl)C  overseers  of  the  poor,  and  sent  to  the 
Alms-house  to  die  there,  unknown  and  forgotten 
by  every  relative  a;id  friend.  We  have  often  ad^ 
dressed,  and  endeavored  to  console,  twenty  at  a 
time  of  tliese  wretched  females,  on  their  beds,  in 
lows  round  their  apartment,  wiiile  the  silent  tears 
of  shame  and  regret  would  steal  from  tlieir  eyes 
and  trickle  down  their  cheeks.  One  day  as  I  was 
visiting  tiie  patients  in  the  surgical  ward,  I  saw 
a  young  female,  about  seventeen  years  of  age, 
wL*o  was  literally  reduced  to  a  skeleton,  by  the 
fashionable  disease  peculiar  to  her  profession. 
Tart  of  her  face,  particularly  her  nose,  w  as  eat- 
en away,  and  slie  w  as  in  other  respects,  an  ob- 
ject that  was  truJy  shocking  to  behold.  Her  ad- 
Ventures  and  misfortunes,  prior  to  entering  the 
Alms-house,  were  nearly  similar  to  the  portrait 
J  have  already  di-awn.     Soon  after  her  deviation 


VINDICATED.  171 

tVoni  female  rectitude,  site  was  poisoned  by  tlie 
fatal  disease  in  its  most  vimlent  form.  She  ^vas 
$oon  forsaken  by  her  companions  in  iniquity, 
and  was  carried  to  the  Alms-house;  where  she 
continued  under  the  physician's  care  for  several 
months,  still  unrecovered  from  her  fall,  either 
mentally  or  corporeally.  Such  was  her  situa- 
tion when  I  first  approaclied  her  bed-side;  dead  in 
sin,  pierced  with  sorrow,  and  on  the  confines  of 
eternity.  During  tlie  time  she  remained  in  this 
repository  of  human  misery,  no  relative,  friend 
or  acquaintance  once  consoled  her  with  a  pitying 
look,  cheered  her  with  friendly  a^yice,  or  parti- 
cipated her  anguish  with  a  tender  tear.  As  I 
approached  her  bed-side,  she  lifted  up  her  hope- 
less eye  towards  me;  and,  in  an  instant,  as  if 
transfixed  with  conscious  shame,  slio  cast  them 
down  again,  shook  her  head  significantly,  and 
sighed  as  it  were,  mechanically.  She  seemed  to 
be  so  worn  down  with  grief  and  sorrow,  as  al- 
most to  be  petrified  witli  the  painful  recollectiou 
of  her  happier  days,  and  bereaved  of  her  intellec- 
tual faculties.  I  visited  her,  and  spoke  the  most 
consoling  words  my  commisseration  could  sug- 
gest, for  many  days,  viewing  her  with  astonish- 
ment mixed  witli  distress,  before  she  seemed  to 
attend  to  my  admonitions.  At  last,  awakend  as 
from  a  reverie,  she  looked  wistfuily  at  me,  while 
the  big  round  tears  stole  from  her  languid  eyes. 
She  asked  me,  if  she  was  not  out  of  the  reach  of 
mercy?  if  she  was  not  abandoned  by  heaven, 
earth,  relatives,  and  friends;  as  her  lover  pro- 
ved faithless,  and  her  parents  implacable  and 
inexorably  severe?  I  viewed,  witli  ^palpitating 
heart,  her  hollow  eye§,  sunk  in  their  sockets, 
and  there  I  could  almost  read,  that  her  parent^s 
anguish  wounded  her  more  deeply  thaa  her  lover^s 


ir^z  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

trcacliery:   her  lover,  who  flattered  to  deceivct 
and  was  so  woven  with  serpentine  deceit  and  V\\ 
iainy, 

No  human  foe  her  fatal  tale  could  bear. 
Nor  Satan's  self  relate  without  a  tear. 

Nature  would  melt»  and  savage  ferocity  would 
relent,  were  the  Ijalf  of  her  sufferings  and  his  vil- 
lainy uttered.  In  short,  she  became  more  antl 
m^re  sensible  of  the  ruinous  state  of  her  soul,  as 
also  the  emaciated  state  of  her  body,  while  she  lis- 
tened and  attended  to  our  periodical  admonitions, 
which  she  did  with  lively  gratitude  and  peniten- 
tial sorrow;  and  every  time  she  adverted  to  her 
degraded  state  the  tears  of  regret  would  start 
from  her  eyes,  and  trickle  down  her  cheeks.  She 
continued  in  this  penitent  state  of  mind  for  some 
weeks,  praying  hourly  to  the  Almighty  to  par- 
don her  manifold  offences,  and  returning  ns  a 
thousand  thanks  for  our  successful  admonitions; 
and  a  few  nights  previous  to  her  dissolution,  she 
called  the  nurse  and  told  her  tliat  the  Almiglity 
had  blessed  her  with  a  divine  sense  of  his  accep- 
tance and  pardoning  love;  that  she  was  supreme- 
ly happy,  and  ready  and  willing  to  be  dissolved, 
that  she  might  be  with  Christ.  Before  this  change 
she  was  afraid  to  die.  She  got  the  nurse  to  r^ad 
in  the  hymn  book  such  hymns  as  were  applicable 
to  her  condition;  and  thus  the  penitential  delin- 
quent departed  this  life  w  ithout  a  sigh  or  a  groan, 
and  with  a  placid  smile  that  almost  beautified  her 
deformed  countenance,  in  full  hope  of  a  glorious 
immortality,  through  the  atonement  and  inter- 
cession of  the  Friend  of  sinners,  about  the  I/th 
year  of  her  age.  Her  remains  were  conveyed, 
without  form  or  ceremony,  to  Potter's-field  buriai 
ground. 


VliNDICATED.  1^3 

No  friends,  no  parents,   there  in  sad  arra}  ^ 
Saw  her  remains  in  silent  sadness  borne; 
No  tear  was  shed  upon  her  grave  that  day. 
Her  name,   her  memory,    consigned  to  scorn. 

Ah!  hapless  maid,   how  many  like  you  g-roan^ 
A  life  of  sorrow,    and  disgrace,   and  shame; 
No  friend  to  stop  the  melancholy  moan, 
Nor  cheer  the  mind  transfixVl  with  mighty  pain. 

Her  nearest  friend  refuses  to  protect. 
Although  the  lonely  corpse  is  buried  nigh; 
Whose  solitary  clay  remains  undecked. 
Nor  marks  her  grave,    nor  begs  a  passing'  sigh 

Yet  may'st  thou  read  this  girl's  pathetic  lay. 
And,   if  possess'd  of  pity,    drop   a  tear; 
She  was  once  sparkling  as  Sol's  golden  ray, 
Crown'd  with  delight,   and  void  of  guilty  fear. 

Qut,   ah!  her  morning  sun  was  set  at  noon, 
Sntic'd  by  fashion  to  the  devious  way; 
Where  artful  libertines,   alas!  too  soon. 
Led  ther  mistaken  maiden  more  astray. 

Ye  nymphs,  \yho  boast  this  sacred  pearl  we  call 
rhe  crown  of  virtue;   woman^s  pride  and  boast; 
if  now  you  stand,    oh!  tremble  lest  you  fltll. 
And  prove,   indeed,   what  hapless  Anna  lost. 

Oh!   bear  in  mind  the  melancholy  da}-, 
That  robb'd  her  of  all  she  accounted  dear; 
And  read  for  thou  may's  read  the  plaintive  lay, 
And  drop  for  her  a  sad,    and  silent  tear, 

THE   EPITAPH. 

Here  lies  the  relics  of  a  child  of  woe. 
Born  in  the  lap  of  fortune  and  of  fame  5 
15* 


n4    .        FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Who,   lui-'d  from  home  by  a  seductive  foe. 
Relinquished  fortune,   and  an  honest  name. 

Soon  in  the  interdicted  fatal  way, 
She  felt  the  poisoji  reach  her  youthful  heart, 
Nor  friend,    nor  comforter  she  found  that  day^ 
To  stop  its  progress,   or  allay  her  smart. 

To  fashion  first  a  victim  she  became, 
The   libertine  then  found  an  easy  prey; 
Enamour'd  by  the  fascinating  dame, 
Thus  am'rous  fops  defenceless  maidens  slay. 

Her  fatal  downfal  we  no  more  disclose, 
Since  God  has  view'd  her  with  a  pitying  eyej 
Wliose  pard'ning  mercy  is  her  sure  repose, 
The  pardon  of  the  Sov'reign  of  the  sky. 

She  lies  forgot,    this  all  her  monument^ 
This  the  spontaneous  tribute  of  a  sigh; 
Approach  and  read,    and  while  your  hearts  relent, 
Alas!  poor  Anna,   let  e^ch  reader  cry. 

The  reader,  I  hope,  will  excuse  me  for  detain- 
ing her  so  long  with  the  prefixed  account  of  poor 
Anna.  I  did  not  intend  to  say  more  than  a  few 
words  on  the  occasion,  without  the  addition  of 
any  of  the  lines  of  poetry,  which  were  composed 
inadvertently,  as  I  pursued  the  subject.  Her 
sufferings  and  penitence  v\ould  not  have  made,, 
such  a  lasting  impression  upon  my  mind,  hsid  I 
not  been  a  personal  witness  of  them. 

I  will  conclude  the  picture  by  delineating,  as 
its  counter-part,  the  profile  of  the  viHain  who 
caused  all  this  misery;  hoping  it  may  fall  into  the 
hands  of  some  adept  at  the  arts  of  seduction,  or 
be  presented  to  him  by  some  friend  to  female  in- 
.nocenoe.     For  the  sordid  pui'pose  of  gratifying 


VINDICATED.  i7i> 

liis  carnal  propensities,  he  dares,  by  the  most 
vile  and  treacherous  method*},  to  attack  the  un- 
suspecting virtue  of  a  daughter,  and  annihilates 
the  domestic  peace  and  honorable  name  of  a  vir- 
tuous family;  and,  by  abandoning  a  female  to 
iu^tamy,  he  makes  her  the  instrument  of  enticing 
and  vanquishing  the  virtuous  intentions  of  many 
young  men,  who,  in  their  turn,  delude  and  ruin 
other  innocent  females,  who  would  have  remain- 
ed virtuous  had  it  not  been  for  the  fascinating 
snares  of  the  female,  who  was  previously  sedu- 
ced by  this  villain,  What  complicated  crimes 
will  he  have  to  answer  for  at  the  bar  of  God  ?  and 
what  curses  are^  heaped  upon  his  guilty  head,  by 
the  wretched  parents  of  the  girl  he  has  ruined? 
Letus  approach  their  distressed  habitation;  which, 
previous  to  this  catastrophe,  diffused  respectabil- 
ity, tenderness  and  domestic  peace;  enter  the 
door  and  see  what  vexation  and  anguish  are  de- 
pictured on  every  countenance— rthe  hoary  father 
is  pacing  the  room  with  hasty  steps  and  downcast 
looks,  and  with  emotions  unutterable,  sorrovv  in- 
conceivahle,  and  whose  resentful  eyes  forbid  the 
rising  tears  to  ease  his  grief — the  tears  that  would 
unbidden  flow  on  any  other  pathetic  occasion;  but 
his  lioiior  is  wounded;  his  pride  is  mortified;  thti 
pride  of  his  declining  age  is  sunk  in  the  sink  of 
infamy  and  prostitution;  the  agonizing  thought 
willsoon  bring  his  grey  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the 
grave.  Viev/,  seated  in  an  armed  chair,  with 
her  head  reclining  on  her  hand,  the  mother  of  the 
unhappy  girl;  she  was  the  staff  of  her  declining 
years;  to  her  she  looked  to  baffle  the  evils  peculiar 
to  old  age;  to  close  her  eyes  in  death;  to  enhance 
her  joys  m  eternity. — But  all  these  promiseJ  bles- 
sings iiave  been  consigned  to  oblivion;  they  have 
vanistiod  with  the  honor  of  her  daughter^:  like  a 


1t6        female  character 

tapering  vapor  in  the  aftnosphere.  But  how  must 
the  libertine's  guilt  be  enhanced,  if,  in  addition 
to  all  these  woes;  he  has  produced  the  eternal 
ruin  of  the  soul  as  well  as  the  body  of  liis  victim; 
and  where  we  find  one  real  penitent  prostitute, 
surely  we  find  scores  that  are  impenitent,  and  die, 
as  well  as  live,  incoirigible  sinners: — Hence  the 
utility  of  a  Magdalen  Society.  Is  she  cut  off  in 
the  bloom  of  life  in  her  sins,  surely  the  reflection 
of  such  an  event  will  not  only  imbitter  the  walks 
of  life,  but  arm  with  triple  fury  and  horror  the 
pangs  of  death  to  her  merciless  destroyer. 

Libertine,  be  assured  the  day  of  retribution  is 
at  hand;  the  blood  of  a  murdered  fellow-creature 
cries  to  heaven  for  vengeance  against  you,  and 
the  cry  will  assuredly  be  heard,  unless  prevent- 
ed by  a  speedy  repentance  and  reformation.  The 
bed  of  death,  the  yawning  grave,  and  the  pit  of 
destr  action,  are  open  and  ready  to  receive  you. 

Wlien  you  ^mticipate  the  solemnities  of  a  dying 
hour,  and  feel  the  icy  hand  of  death  seizing  you; 
oh!  how  dreadful  will  the  reflection  be,  that  you 
have  been  the  destroyer,  the  fell  murderer  of  those 
helpless  persons,  which  laws,  human  and  divine, 
enjoined  you  to  protect  and  defend.  Oh!  how 
dreadful  will  you  feel  when  about  launching  into 
a  boundless  eternity,  loaded  with  guilt;  and,  as 
it  were,  drenched  in  the  blood. of  your  fellow 
creatures:  and  when  you  have  entered  the  gates 
of  death,  and  are  approaching  the  mighty  gtilph, 
without  bottom  or  shore,  what  horror  must  seize 
your  naked  and  forsaken  soul,  when  the  first  ob- 
ject that  faces  you,  with  a  grin  of  fury,  in  eterni- 
ty, is  the  screeching  ghost  of  the  girl  you  have 
robbed  of  her  virtue,  and  plundered  of  her  life. 
She  is  eagerly  waiting  to  pour  on  your  guilty  head 
iho  vengeance  of  Heaven,  and  the  Wrath  of  etev 


VINDICATED.  izr 

nity.  But  time  would  fail  me  in  giving  a  glimpse 
of  the  thousandth  part  of  the  horrors  of  such  a 
soul;  to  enhance  whose  misery  he  will  see  the 
baneful  effects  of  his  crimes  in  society,  ages  af- 
ter his  decease,  the  contagion  will  spread  wide 
and  more  wide  to  future  generations:  But  in  the 
day  of  final  decision,  to  be  impeached  by  his  coun- 
try, whose  laws  he  trampled  under  his  feet;  by 
the  families,  whose  peace  he  had  destroyed;  the 
nu'ividuals  whom  he  had  murdered;  and  even  the 
Almighty  Judge  himself,  whose  laws  he  despised, 
and  flung  his  death  and  agonies  away;  intercept- 
ed his  glorious  rays,  and  forbid  them  to  shine  up- 
on the  object  he  murdered;  and  finally,  helped 
to  people  the  gloomy  regions  ttf  darkness  and  ('' s- 
pair;  what  tongue  can  express,  or  mind  conceive 
his  guilt,  and  its  consequent  punishment. 

I  have  been  depicting  the  crimson  crimes  of  the 
impenitent  libertine,  that  I  might  have  an  oppor- 
tunity to  prove,  that  not  only  the  guilt  of  this 
female  delinquent,  but  even  the  guilt  of  the  liber- 
tine himself,  is  in  a  great  measure  the  guile  of 
that  cruel  and  injudicious  mother,  wlio  not  only 
suffered  her  children  to  go  into  the 'jaws  of  temp-' 
tation,  but  led  them  into  the  paths  of  destruction 
herself,  both  by  precept  and  example.  Surely 
that  motijer,  who  (by  actions  which  S])cak  louder 
frhan  words)  tempts  the  libertine  to  tempt  her 
daughti^r,  and  gives  him  every  opportunity  to  lay 
snares  for  her  desrniction,  is  the  primary  cause 
of  the  iniquity  of  both  parties;  therefore,  all  the 
woes  I  have  denounced,  and  ten  times  as  many, 
must  be  the  portion  of  tliese  parents,  gentle  or 
simple,  noble  or  ignoble,  rich  or  poor,  who  thus 
virtually  give  their  unconscious  and  defenceless 
offspring,  a  prey  to  temporal  and  eternal  destrqc- 
tion.    Let  such  consider  themselves  the  blackest 


Ua  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

and  most  horrible  figures  in  the  intellectual  pi{ 
ture  I  have  delineated. 

I  have  already  hinted,  that  the  children  of  what 
are  called  the  higher  ?nd  lower  classes  of  people, 
w  ere  in  most  danger  of  being  whirled  into  the  vor- 
tex of  popular  degeneracy  and  personal  dissipa- 
tion:— The  first  on  account  of  their  abundance, 
which  sharpens  every  illicit  appetite,  and  invi- 
gorates every  versatile  solicitation: — the  latter, 
on  account  of  their  indigence  and  wants,  which 
necessitates  them  to  expose  themselves  and  their 
children  to  a  variety  of  vicissitudes  and  tempta- 
tions. For  instance,  that  poor,  but  virtuous  fa- 
mily, who  have  more  children  than  they  can  well 
support/  are  under  the  necessity  of  binding  out 
their  oldest  children-— -if  they  are  daughtei^s,  their 
virtue  will  be  severely  tried. 

I  know  a  rich  merchant  who  is  considered  res- 
pectable, whose  children  are  men  and  women 
grown,  that  cannot,  or  rather  will  not,  let  any 
of  his  female  servants,  young  or  old,  pass,  with- 
out using  his  utmost  endeavors  to  seduce  and  ruin 
them.  I  would  ask,  how  can  a  young  girl  that  is 
bound  to  such  a  man,  escape  pollution  ? — and  ma- 
ny, too  many  there  are,  of  this  same  disposition, 
whose  ajipearance  would  forbid  the  sujposition: 
and  not  only  masters,  but  sons,  and  even  men 
servants,  are  always  on  the  alert,  to  decoy  the 
unguarded  female,  and  ruin  her  forever.  Hf, 
therefore,  the  mothers  of  sucJi  children  do  not  in- 
culcate the  principles  of  female  virtue  upon  their 
juvenile  minds  w  ith  assiduity,  they  may  reasona- 
bly expect,  tliat  sooner  or  later  they  w  ill  fall  vic- 
tims, not  to  seduction,  but  maternal  neglect:'*-^ 
whereas,  if  the  mother  (as  it  is  her  province  so  to 
do,)  was  to  point  out  diligently,  the  beauty  of 
chastity^  and  the  deformity  of  its  contrary;  and 


VINDIGATED.  179 

ihat,  from  the  first  dawning  of  their  understand- 
ings, virtue  would  become  mechanically  charm- 
ing to  them,  and  vice,  particularly  debauchery, 
"would  be  the  object  of  their  implacable  disgust 
and  detestation:  and,  trims  prepared,  they  might 
pass  through  a  host  of  libertines,  with  unsullied 
virtue:  but  how  can  that  mother  be  so  unaccount- 
ably stupid,  as  to  expect  that  her  daughter,  whom 
she  never  warns  of  the  fascinating  snares  by  Avhich 
she  is  surrounded,  will  shun  these  snares,  the 
invincible  snares  of  vseduction,  by  which  even  the 
dame,  who  has  counted  SO  revolving  years,  is 
vanquished;  but  it  is  not  only  the  loiver  class  of 
people  whose  children  are  thus  exposed,  but  the 
middle  class,  who  are  cro\^ned  with  blest  medio- 
crity, sometimes  participate  the  dangers,  the  sor- 
rows, and  sufferings  of  the  poor.  There  are  a 
thousand  vicissitudes  periodically  intervening, 
which  not  only  levels  this  class,  but  even  the  high- 
er,  on  an  equality  with  the  lower  class. 

How  dreadful  will  it  be  for  such,  who  have 
raised  their  children  in  idleness  and  vanity,  to 
be  cursed,  with  too  unsuitable  companions;  to 
W'it,  a  beggar's  purse,  and  a  proud  lieart.  Alas! 
how  many  daughters  of  such  families  have  on 
such  events,  sacrificed  their  chastity  sooner  than 
their  pride:  but  even  those,  v»ho  have  preferred 
liibor  to  prostitution,  how  liable  are  they  to  be 
led  astray,  by  the  persuasions,  insinuations  and 
seductions  of  designing  men,  if  the  sacred  seed  of 
virtue,  has  not  taken  deep  root.  Such  a  reduced 
female,  who  prefers  virtue  clothed  in  rags,  and 
working  in  a  kitchen,  to  vice  arrayed  in  silks, 
fringed  with  flowers  of  gold,  and  dwelling  in  a 
palace,  is  transcendently  amiable,  and  worthy 
to  be  a  princess. 

From  these  simple^  familiar,  and  friendly  re 


180  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

marks,  all  that  will,  may  see  the  necessity  of  fe- 
male virtue,  to  produce  domestic  peace,  personal 
tranquillity,  and  national  prosperity;  and  that 
mother,  let  her  be  who  she  may,  that  brings  up 
her  daughters  without  ever  attempting  to  improve 
their  intellects,  nurture  their  virtue,  defend  their 
chastity,  and  promote  their  future  honor  and  pros- 
perity, is,  (excuse  my  plainness,)  a  pest  to  soci- 
ety, and  the  virtual  destroyer  of  her  family,  whom 
she  is  bound,  by  all  laws  human  and  divine,  to 
protect  and  defend. 

Little  do  such  mothers  think,  that  their  neglect 
and  indolence  will  materially  affect,  nay,  will 
literally  eclipse,  the  usefulness,  as  well  as  under- 
mine the  respectability  of  not  only  their  children, 
but  their  children's  children,  to  the  third  and 
fourth  generation:  for  instance,  those  daughters 
who  are  brought  up,  and  educated  merely  as  if 
they  were  intended  to  be  statues  to  gaze  upon,  or 
to  grace  tlie  seraglio  of  some  eastern  nabob,  or 
to  flutter  about,  in  conduct  and  appearance,  like 
painted  butterflies,  that  skip  from  flower  to  flow- 
er, to  display  their  useless  variegated  colours;  I 
say,  these  daughters,  when  they  become  mothers, 
very  naturally  bring  their  children  up  in  the  same 
manner  they  were  theniselves,  as  useless  beings, 
cumberers  of  tho  ground;  and  thus  one  generation 
after  another  are  contauiinated  through  the  ma- 
ternal neglect  of  their  progenitors;  and  it  is  vice 
versa  with  tlie  females  ol  those  ancestors,  wlio 
brouglit  up  and  educated  their  offspring,  not  as 
animal  machines,  but  as  reasonable  and  intelli- 
gent beings,  created  for  the  most  exalted  purpo- 
ses, and  with  the  most  benevolent  design.  They 
|)roved  by  experience  the  ineffable  deligiits  spring- 
ing from  a  self  approving  conscience,  the  recol- 
kction  of  their  fraternal  and  indefatigable  endeav- 


VINDICATED,  181 

wsfor  the  glory  of  their  God,  and  tlieir  families 
weal,  diffused  tlic  most  pleasurable  serenity 
through  their  souls.  They  ascertained,  by  prac- 
tice as  well  as  theory,  that  riches,  void  of  virtue, 
can  never  purchase  an  hour's  ical  happiness,  o^r 
a  moment's  real  peace:  but  that  virtue^  without 
riches,  can  render  us  truly  liappy,  not  only  in 
this  world,  but  that  which  js  to  come:  and,  in 
short,  that  nothing  but  the  practice  of  vii'tue  and 
piety,  can  render  a  human  being  truly  happy, 
andcapacitate  the  human  mind  to  anticipate  the 
joys  peculiar  to  the  first  born  sons  of  glory. 
While,  with  gratitude,  we  receive  the  blessings 
^f  nature;  v/hile,  with  humility,  we  follow  the 
dictates  of  reason;  while,  with  affection  unsullied 
and  sincere,  we  return  to  God  the  grateful  tri- 
bute of  thanksgiving  for  his  benedictions,  we  se- 
cure a  paradise  on  earth.  But,  on  the  contrary, 
while  we  suffer  our  carnal  appetites  to  subjugate 
our  reason,  captivate  our  hearts,  and  fascinate 
©ur  understandings:  while  we  suficr  our  turbulent 
passions  to  degrade  and  subdue  us,  either  senti- 
mentally or  practically;  sorrow  and  sadness, 
shame  and  disgrace,  infamy  and  Jjorror,  will  in- 
tercept the  smiles  of  heaven,  and  unfold  its  male- 
dictions; will  darken  all  our  j)rospects  on  earth, 
and  prohibit  us  from  ])articipating  her  profuse 
bounties  witii  gi'atitude;  and,  of  course,  with 
pleasurable  sensations.  In  sliort,  while  virtue 
strews  the  path  to  heaven  with  flowers,  vice  car- 
pets the  road  to  destruction  with  briars  and  thorns; 
for,  as  virtue  has  its  own  Reward,  in  this  as  well 
as  the  world  of  spirits;  so  has  vice  its  punishment 
here,  as  well  as  hereafter. 

While  I  am  advising  motliers  to  bring  up  their 
<^hildren  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the 
Xord.  I  am  well  convinced  of  the  difficulties  that 

IG 


t'M  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

occur  tbei*ein.  I  know  tliat  kings,  who  have  gov- 
erned nations;  ministers,  who  liave  led  their  con- 
gregations heaven-ward;  generals,  who  have  van- 
quished armies,  and  subjugated  nations;  could 
not,  (or,  perliaps,  I  more  properly  miglit  say, 
would  not)  govern  their  children;  lead  them  in 
the  flowery  paths  of  piety,  or  conquer  their  tui'- 
bulent  passions. 

The  scholar  may  give  a  correct  definition  of  the 
theory  of  navigation;  but  would  make  a  poor 
hand  of  navigating  a  ship  across  the  pathless  o- 
cean,  encountering  the  dangers  peculiar  to  a  ma- 
riner's life.  The  theoretical  politician  may  be 
able  to  delineate  the  judicious  plan,  and  suggest 
the  most  wholesome  laws  for  governing  a  subju- 
gated nation;  but  little  does  he  know  what  difli- 
culties  attend  the  practical  operation  of  these 
laws,  and  the  opposition  that  will  be  made  before 
the  boisterous  passions,  long  standing  prejudice, 
and  sentimental  prepossessions  of  the  people  are 
subdued. 

One  thing  is  necessary,  and  all  persons  who 
are  intrusted  with  the  education  of  children,  should 
attend  with  great  punctuality  to  it;  and  that  is, 
to  study  the  tempers,  dispositions,  and  constitu- 
tions of  children.  Without  this  consideration, 
the  most  indefatigable  measures,  the  most  solici- 
tous exertions  will  be  in  vain,  as  there  is  a  diver- 
sity of  tempers,  notonly  in  nations  and  communi- 
ties; but  0'en  in  families.  Hence,  w  hat  would 
prove  intellectual  food  for  one  child,  would  be 
poison  for  another.  In  short,  it  will  be  almost 
impossible  to  train  them  up  so  as  to.  answer  the 
end  for  which  they  were  created,  unless  instruct- 
ors suit  their  discipline  to  the  dispositions  of  their 
pupils.  As  every  man's  face  has  its  peculiar  fea- 
tiires;  so  has  every  juvenile  mind  its  particular 


viNl)I€ATEJ3.  iB> 

iiias;  even  tlie  twin  children  of  tiic  same  parents 
cannot  be  conducted  to  the  paths  of  virtue  by  the 
same  method;  both  time  and  patience  are  requi- 
site to  ascertain  the  preponderating  bias  of  chil- 
dren's minds:  take  them  by  this  handle,  and  you 
may  lead  them  with  success  and  facility;  but  by 
a  contrary  one,  your  labor  will  be  not  only  in 
vain,  but  you  will  materially  injure  your  pupil. 

When  I  went  first  to  school,  my  teachers  were 
inflexibly  morose  and  severe:  all  was  severity* 
and  no  encouragement;  the  consequence  of  which 
>vas,  instead  of  being  constituted  a  scholar  by  at- 
tending this  seminary,  I  was  n\ade  a  dunce;  I 
was  so  stupified  by  corporeal  correction  and  men- 
tal  intimidation,  that  I  was  rendered  stupid  botli 
in  and  out  of  school.  I  went  about  nine  years, 
and  much  money  was  expended  during  that  time, 
for  my  tuition.  Yet  I  firmly  believe,  nay,  I  am 
confident,  I  could  learn  more  now^  in  nine  weeks, 
than  I  did  in  that  nine  years.  I  feel  irritated  al- 
most when  I  reflect  on  the  cruel  manner  in  which 
I  was  used;  I  not  only  say  for  trivial  faults,  but 
also  for  no  faults  at  all.  I  well  remember  to  have 
received  such  a  severe  whipping,  as  to  be  left  in 
a  gore  of  blood,  because  I  could  not  repeat  my 
grammar  lesson  verbatim,  which  I  had  done  to 
Tiij  school-fellow,  with  great  facility,  a  few  mo- 
ments before  I  received  my  correction;  but,  being 
terrified  at  the  presence  of  my  unfeeling  instruct- 
or, I  had  forgot  every  word  whe^l  he  examined 
me;  I  consequently  was  always  designated  by  the 
opprobrious  epithet  of  dunce:  and,  in  fact,  I  was 
rendered  such  by  the  cruelty  and  impolicy  of  my 
instructors:  for  I  hope  I  will  not  be  considered  a 
pedant,  when  I  aftirm  that  nature  never  formed 
such  a  character.  Hence,  I  believe  a  cruel 
injudicious  teacher  is  a  pest  to  society,  and 


184  FEMALE   CHARACTER 

an  intellectual  murderer.  I  do  not,  by  any  niean»^* 
wish  to  insinuate,  that  a  teacher  should  not  cor- 
rect his  pupils;  there  is  a  variety  of  ways  without 
corporeal  punishment:  but,  at  any  rate,  I  must 
say,  gentleness  should  always  be  mingled  with 
severity;  mildness  with  chastisement.  A  teach- 
er in  my  opinion,  should  never  inflict  coi'poreal 
punishment  on  his  pupils;  as  it  tends  to  debase 
their  minds,  break  their  spirits,  and  stupify  them; 
to  mortify  their  pride,  would  do  better  than  la- 
cerate their  backs.^ 

The  teacher  iie^er  should  use  the  harsher  way. 
When  love,   or  gentle  means  will  bear  the  sway. 

This  advice  is  not  so  often  applicable  to  parents^ 
particularly  to  mothers,  as  they  too  frequently 
verge  on  the  opposite  extreme.  They  suffer  vice 
too  often  to  grow  luxuriantly  in  their  children, 
before  they  attempt  to  stop  its  growth;  when,  a- 
las!  it  is  too  late  to  stop  its  progress  when  arriv- 
ed near  maturity,  As  the  monarch  of  the  moun- 
tains, the  sturdy  oak,  when  it  has  extended  its 
spreading  foliage,  and  taken  deep  root  in  the 
ground,  and  its  iofty  top  begins  to  nod  in  the  air, 
in  token  of  approaching  maturity;  in  vain  will 
the  laborious  farmer  try  to  bend  it,  so  as  to  an- 
swer his  domestic  use.  I  would'  ask,  what  dis- 
tinguishes the  human  from  the  brute  creation? 
Some  will  say,  reason  is  the  cliaracteristic:  but  I 
say,  I'eason  united  with  religion.  Some  brute« 
exceed  many  men  in  sagacity  and  ingenuity;  but 
none,  no  not  one  in  devotion;  to  this  they  are  all 
utter  strangers.  Should  not  parents,  therefore, 
strive,  judiciously  strive,  to  cultivate  that  heav- 
enly power,  that  divine  plant  which  designates 
the  superiority  of  the  human  over  the  brutal,  U^ 


VINDICATED.  18o 

be  greater  than  the  angelic  over  the  liuman  crea- 
tion. I  feel  jealous  and  ffearful  for  the  rising  gen- 
eration^ perhaps  I  have  partly  anticipated  this 
sentiment  before;  hut  I  will,  if  even  so,  repeat  it 
again;  too  often  it  cannot  be  repeated.  I  would 
ask,  what  is  it  that  civilizes  savage  nations?  I 
answer,  the  cultivation  of  reason  and  religion. 
And  what  is  it  that  metamorphoses  civilized  peo- 
ple to  barbarians?  1  answer,  the  relinquishing 
their  religion  and  reason,  and  surrendering  their 
common  sense  to  be  the  subjugated  vassals  of  their 
vile  and  vulgar  passions. 

The  present  generation  have  become  adepts  in 
tlie  practice  of  the  most  unhallowed  sensuality, 
systematical  cruelty,  refined  debauchery,  and 
fashionable  indelicacy,  which  the  antecedent  gen- 
oration,  were  they  to  arise  from  the  dead,  w  ould 
blush  to  witness. 

Could  they  behold  their   dauf^hters  thus  adorn'd. 
By  fops  admired,    but  by  good  men  scorn"d; 
Some  sentimental  jilts,    and  some  the  slaves 
Of  fashions  lewd,    or  prostitutes  of  knaves; 
Disg-usted  with  the  sad,   the  hateful  sight, 
rhey*d  fly  to  earth  down  from  the  realms  of  light. 
Reprove  with  frowns  their  vile  degen'rate  race. 
And  then  return  back  to  their  heav'nly  place. 

If  we  may  judge  of  the  next  generation  by  the 
present,  we  must  conclude  that  they  will  approx- 
imate to  a  state  of  sensuality  and  debauchery, 
that  will  naturally  assimilate  to  barbarism,^  that 
is,  if  our  children  continue  to  incj'ease  in  degen- 
eracy as  we  have.     If  they  imitate  the  present 


♦History  will  justify  the  above  sentiment. 
16# 


i86  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

vices  and  fashions  of  their  parents;  and,  in  addi- 
tion, loose  the  reins  to  the  domination  of  their 
unhallowed  passions,  in  the  same  quota  and  eti- 
quette as  we  have  done  hefore  them,  where  will 
social  virtue  find  a  shelter,  after  we  leave,  per- 
haps, our  offspring  to  fill  up  the  measure  of  their 
iniquity,    and    force  the  slumbering  vengeance 
from  the  skies?     In  the  event  of  such  a  crisis,  or 
even  at  the  tribunal  of  Jehovah,  how  will  our 
childi^en  accuse  us  in  these,  or  words  like  these: — 
*'0h!  ye,  our  degenerate  ancestors,  you  are  the 
radical  cause  of  our  wretchedness  and  woe,   as 
Avell  as  your  own  shame  and  disgrace;  for  your 
imprudent  neglect,  m  not  instructing  your  chil- 
dren, was  the  means  of  laying  up,  in  our  profliga- 
cy and  disobedience,  the  sharpest  pangs  of  grief, 
regret,  and  sliame  for  your  own  grey  hairs;  by 
your  bad  example  you  made  us  bad  citizens,  and 
scattered  a  wicked  race  to  corrupt  the  virtuous 
part  of  society,  and  thus  remove  the  bariier  that 
kept  back  the  just  vengeance  of  Heaven;  where- 
fore, by  your  negligence  you  became  guilty;  and, 
by  your  bad  example  you  become  doubly  guilty. 
jVow^  you  participate  our  anguisi),  for  you  have  to 
bear  your  own,  and  feel  the  weight  of  our  sins, 
while  your  own  consciences,  and  the  signature 
of  God's  displeasure,  seals  the  authenticity  of  our 
accusation.     You    knew  we  were  illiterate,  and 
yet  you  did  not  instruct  us;  you  saw  that  we  were 
born  in  sin,  and,  of  course,  prone  to  evil;  and 
yet  }ou  did  not  restrain  us;  you  saw  us  go  into 
the  very  jaws  of  destruction  with  indifference; 
nay,  you  invited  us  to  participate  in  the  illicit 
pleasures  and  vanities  of  a  guilty  world.     That 
great  and  good  Being,  who  is  now  our  impartial 
Judge,  you  never  held  up  to  our  view  as  the  ob^ 
ject  of  our  affections,  and  the  author  of  our  lives: 


VINDICATED  U7 

yoii  thought  no  moreof  hirii  and  his  glorious  law» 
than  the  ilust  under  your  feet;  and  you  taught  us^ 
by  your  example,  to  despise  hini.  Finally,  you 
saw  us  working  out  our  destruction  with  greedi- 
ness; and  yett  alas!  you  never  so  much  as  once 
suggested  to  us  the  consequence  of  our  folly;  we 
are,  therefore,  consigned  to  eternal  misery,  and 
unutterable  woes;  but  you  are  the  primary  cause 
of  tliem  all;  it  would  have  been  well  for  us,  if  we 
never  had  been  born  of  such  cruel  and  inconsider- 
ate parents/^ 

Serious,  solemn  considerations — Oh!  that  par- 
ents would  lay  them  to  heart,  and  act  towards 
their  children,  as  they  will  wish  they  had  done, 
when  they  come  to  bid  them  an  eternal  adieu  here^ 
or  appear  at  the  bar  of  God  in  company  with  them 
hereafter;  if  so,  happy  parents.  The  salutations 
and  congratulations  they  wi)l  then  receive  from 
their  offspring,  when  launched  into  eternity,  will 
be  so  diametrically  opposite  to  what  I  have  first 
depicted,  will  be  so  transcendently  glorious  and 
exquisitely  divine,  as  to  beggar  description,  and 
mock  all  human  conception. 

Before  I  conclude,  1  will  suggest  a  few  spon- 
taneous thoughts  relative  to  matrimonial  allian- 
ces, between  what  the  world  calls  people  of  quali- 
ty. 

It  often  happens,  that  such  persons  consider 
riches  as  the  nerves  of  the  conjugal  state;  hence, 
we  often  find  parents  sacrificing  their  children's 
present  peace  and  future  prosperity  at  the  shrine 
of  that  greedy  god>  Mammon.  How  often  does 
it  happen,  that  an  avaricious  person  will  marry 
his  daughter,  perhaps  not  more  than  sixteen 
years  of  age,  to  a  man  old  enough  to  be  her  grand- 
father, merely  because  he  is  rich;  for  the  sake  of 
filthy  lucre,  the  girl  is  tbrced  contrary  to  her  in- 


188  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

clinations  (which,  by  the  by  in  such  cases  as  these 
arc  never  consulted,)  and  previous  engagements, 
to  give  her  hand  and  person  to  one  man,  while 
another  possesses  her  heart;  the  consequence  of 
which  is,  she  is  plunged  into  a  labyrinth  of  mise- 
ry, from  which  nothing  but  death  can  relieve 
her — she  is  almost  compelled  to  be  unfaithful  to 
her  hoary  headed  husband,  though  she  may  be, 
by  nature  and  education,  virtuous.  For,  how  is 
it  possible  she  can  live  happy  with  a  man  60  year* 
older  than  herself?  Oh !  how  many  beautiful  young 
women  have  been  ruined  in  this  manner,  by  their 
parsimonious  parents!  Such  parents,  I  will  be 
bold  to  say,  are  more  guilty  in  the  sight  of  heav- 
en, than  the  highway  robber;  for,  he  only  takes 
the  traveller's  money;  but  they  rob  their  child  of 
peace  and  tranquillity  here,  and  place  such  stumb- 
ling-blocks, such  invincible  temptations,  before 
her,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  for  her  to  retain 
her  integrity,'^  and,  of  course,  she  is  plundered 
at  the  shrine  of  avarice,  of  her  present  and  eter- 
nal peace.  The  vengeance  of  eternity  will  sure- 
ly  be  hurled  on  the  heads  of  such  cruel  and  avari- 
cious  parents: — far,  far  more  guilty  than  the  mid- 
night assassin,  whose  dagger,  perhaps,  is  the 
mittimus  that  conveys  his  victim  to  that  glorious 
world  where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and 
rhe  weary  are  forever  at  rest. 

It  almost  always  happens,  on  such  marriages, 
that  the  lady,  notwithstanding  her  virtue  is  un- 
sullied, and  her  prudence  is  unimpeachable,  loos- 


*I  believe  many  young  women  have  been  thus  plun- 
dered of  their  present  and  future  happiness.  Oh!  how 
mortifying-,  to  be  forced,  in  the  presence  of  the  man 
f^hc  adores,  to  give  her 'hand  to  the  one  she  detests. 


VINDICATED.  189 

es  her  good  name;  as  people  consider  it  impossi- 
ble for  her  to  be  sentimentally,  as  well  as  practi- 
cally virtuous,  placed  in  such  an  indelicate  situa- 
tion; and  her  old  husband,  well  considering  cir- 
cumstances, naturally  suispccts  her  of  coquetry; 
for  such  men  generally  prove  jealous  husbands 
when  possessed  of  young  wives;  and,  indeed,  the 
young  libertine  will  naturally  lay  siege  to  such  a 
lady^s  virtue,  as  he  suspects,  that  she  has  every 
reason  to  encourage  an  intrigue.  Thus  is  she 
brought  into  the  sery  jaws  of  destruction  by  her 
murderous  parent?^,  and  if  she  miraculouisly  es- 
capes the  many  snarers  by  which  she  is  surround- 
ed, without  b«^ing  contaminated,  her  good  name, 
which  is  more  pivcious  than  gold  or  silver,  wiM 
undoubtedly  be  tarnished  by  cftlumny,  and  adul- 
terated b}^  the  censorious:  thus,  at  all  events,  she 
is  robbed  of  lier  inward  peare,  and  outward  res- 
pectability, by  her  unrelenting  parents,  to  whom 
the  subsequent  lines  of  Shakspeare,  are  truly  ap- 
plicable:— 

*^Who  steals  my  purse,   steals  trasli; 

'Tis  something,    nothing- — 'twas  mine,   'tishis^ 

And  has  been  slave  to  thousands; 

But  he  who  filches  from  me  my  good  name, 

Robs  me  of  that,    which  not  enriches  him. 

But  makes  me  poor  indeed." 

It  sometimes  happens,  that  very  young  women 
willingly  marry  old  men,  and  thus  sacrifice  their 
own  persons  at  the  shrine  of  Mammon;  they  are 
therefore,  not  to  be  pitied,  as  they  bring  wretch- 
edness upon  themselves;  they  think  when  they  get 
riches  they  will  get  hapfiy;  but,  alas!  they  find 
themselves  wretchedly  mistaken;  they  find  to  their 


190  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

sorrow,  that  a  palace,  when  changed  to  a  prisow. 
loses  all  its  worth. 

However,  it  happens  to  them,  just  as  it  befel  ' 
Elijah's  servant,  who  took  from  Naaman,  the 
Assyrian  general,  the  talents  and  changes  of  rai- 
ment, which  his  master  nobly  refused  to  accept. 
When  he  returned  to  his  master,  the  pro])h(^t,  a 
curse  was  denounced  upon  him  for  his  covetous- 
1M3SS,  and  the  leprosy  of  Naaman  was  that  curse: 
so,  with  liis  riches,  he  received  a  disease  that 
rendered  them  of  no  utility.  Thus  it  is  with 
those  avaricious  fair  ones;  they  have  to  live  with 
men  they  cannot  love,  as  it  were  in  a  perpetual 
prison;  they  must  submit  to  their  caprice  and  jeal- 
ousy, and  all  for  the  love  of  money,  which  they 
cannot  enjoy;  for  what  are  riches  when  compared 
to  peace  and  tranquillity  of  mind?  The  charac- 
ters of  such  silly  avaricious  fair  ones  are  pointed 
ly  described  by  Lord  Lyttleton: 

'<The  most  abandoned  prostitutes  are  they, 
Who  not  to  love,   but  avarice  fall  a  prey: 
And  naught  avails  a  maid  so  wedded.'' 

But  while  these  cases  excite  our  contempt,  the 
misfortunes  of  tlie  former  ones  excite  our  warm- 
est commiseration;  and  not  only  for  the  females 
thus  forced  against  their  inclinations  and  prior 
engagements,  but  also  for  the  young  men  who 
have  the  cruel  mortification  to  see  their  lovers 
forced  from  their  embraces,  by  paternal  inflexi- 
bility. Such  cruel  proceedings  have  produced 
many  a  suicide:  and  brought  many  a  loving  cou- 
ple through  complicated  scenes  of  sorrow  and 
woe,  to  a  premature  death. 

I'hose  who  are  unacquainted  with  the  force  id 


VINDICATED.  19i 

juvenile  attachments,  will  laugh  at  the  supposi 
tion  as  chimerical  and  romantic;  for, 

None  know  their  grief  but  they  who  lov'd  so  well* 
They,    only  they  can  half  their  sorrows  tell; 
These,    only  these  can  pity,    weep,    and  melt, 
Those  cannot  sympathize  who  never  felt. 

However  superficial  or  imaginary  it  may  be  in 
itself,  I  will  not  attempt  to  define.  This  much 
I  can  confidently  assert,  as  a  stubborn  and  melan- 
choly fact,  authenticated  by  the  experience  of  a- 
ges,  that  disappointed  love  has  slain  it^  thous- 
ands of  the  human  family;  and  a  great  proportion 
of  them,  through  the  inflexibility  and  capricious- 
ness  of  maternal  impolicy,  penurious  solicitude, 
or  family  pride.  How  many  cruel  parents,  with 
more  than  savage  insensibility,  have  sacrificed 
their  children^s  present  and  eternal  happiness,  be- 
fore tliey  would  relinquish  a  particle  of  their  sen- 
timental pride  and  hereditary  pretensions!  Cruel 
parents!  Surely  tlie  tyranny  of  a  Manasseh,  the 
haughtiness  of  a  Nebuchadnezzar,  or  the  volup- 
tuousness of  an  Alexander,  will  be  more  tolerable 
in  the  day  of  judgment  than  the  conduct  of  such 
parents. 

I  will  take  the  liberty  to  close  this  chapter  with 
a  description  of  the  ill-fated  love  and  tragical  end 
of  Palemon,  abridged  from  Falconer's  Shipwreck. 
The  writer,  no  doubt,  drew  the  incidents  of  his 
pathetic  tale  from  real  life,  and  it  is  more  than 
probable,  from  his  own  experience,  as  he  was  a 
common  sailor  when  he  wrote  it,  and  undoubted- 
ly say  better  days.  The  erudition,  masterly 
style,  and  sterling  merit  displayed  in  his  wri- 
^^igs,  demonstrate  that  he  was  a  man  of  classi- 
I^W  education,  as  well  as  extraordinary  poetical 


m  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

talents,  Avhich  would  do  honor  to  a  Pope,  or  even 
a  Milton,  especially  when  we  contrast  the  advan- 
tages of  the  one  party  for  displaying  their  talents, 
with  the  disadvantage  of  the  other. 

Our  author,  wliosc  name  was  William  Falcon- 
er, Johnson,  in  his  Lives  of  the  Poets,  informs 
lis  *'was  a  native  of  Scotland,  hred  to  the  sea  ser- 
vice, in  w  hich  he  spent  the  greatest  part  of  his  life 
in  a  very  low  situation.  He  displayed  his  poeti- 
ral  talents,  at  an  early  age,  hy  the  puhlication, 
at  Edinhurg,  of ''A  Poem,  sacred  to  the  Memory 
of  His  Royal  Highness,  Frederick,  Prince  of 
Wales,*^  8  vo.  1751.  In  the  course  of  his  sea  life 
he  appears  to  have  really  experienced  the  dangers 
so  feelingly  described  in  his  poem,  entitled  *^Tftc 
Shijnvreck,^^  printed  in  1762.  The  publication 
of  this  work  drew  him  from  the  obscurity  of  his 
situation;  he  was  patronized  by  the  Duke  of  York, 
to  whom  he  addressed  an  ode,  on'liis  second  de- 
parture from  England  as  Rear  Admiral,  and  soon 
after  received  the  appointment  of  Purser  to  the 
Royal  George.  In  1769  he  published  a  ''Marine 
Dictionary,'^  an  acknowledged  useful  v^ork,  and 
soon  afterwards  embarked  on  board  the  Aurora 
to  settle  in  the  East  Indies.  In  December,  1769, 
he  arrived  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  from  whence 
he  sailed  soon  after.  These  were  the  last  tidings 
<if  the  ship,  whicli  was  never  heard  of  afterwards. 
It  is  geiicrally  supposed  to  have  taken  fire,  and 
that  all  the  crew  perished. 

*«Palemon's  heart  for  beauteous  Anna  bled, 
Tor- her  a  secret  fiame  his  bosom  fed, 
Nor  let  the  wretched  slaves  of  folly  scorn 
7'his  g-enuine  passion,    Nature's  eldest  born! 
'Twas  his  wU!i  lasting"  ang'uish  to  complain, 
HVhile  blooming"  Annti  mourn'd  the  cause  in  vain. 


VINDICATED.  i^O 

•iiiraceful  of  form,  by  nature  taught  to  please, 
power  to  melt  the  female  breast  with  ease: 
:u  herPalemon  told  his  tender  tale, 
Soft  as  the  voice  of  Summer's  evening  gale. 
O'erjoy'd,   he  saw  her  lovely  eyes  relent^ 
The  blushing  maiden  smilM  with  sweet  consent. 
Oft  in  the  mazes  of  a  neighb'ring  grove, 
Unheard,   they  breath'd  alternate   vows  of  love 
By  fond  society  their  passion  grew, 
Like  the  young  blossom  fed  with  vernal  dew 
In  evil  hourth'  ofr.cious  tongue  of  Fame 
Betray'd  the  secret  of  their  mutual  flame. 
With  grief  and  anger  struggling  at  his  breast^ 
Palemon's  father  heard  the  tale  confest. 
Long  had  he  listen'd  with  suspicious  ear, 
And  learnt,  sagacious,    this  event  to  fear. 
Too  well,   fair  youth  thy  liberal  heart  he  knew 
A  heart  to  nature's  warm  impressions  true! 
Full  oft  his  wisdom  strove  w^ith  fruitless  toil 
With  avarice  to  pollute  that  generous  soil. 
Thai  soil,   impregnated  with  nobler   seed. 
Refused  the  culture  of  so  rank  a  weed. 
Elate  with  wealth,    in  active  commerce  wor,- 
And  basking  in  the  smile  of  Fortune's  sun. 
With  scorn  the  parent  ey'd  the  lowly  shade, 
That  vcil'd  the  beauties  of  this  charming  maid 
Indignant  he  rebuk'd  the  enamour'd  boy, 
The  flattering  promise  of  his  future  joy ! 
He  sooth'd  and  menac'd,    anxious  to  reclaim 
This  hopeless  passion  or  divert  its  aim: 
Oft  led  the  youth  where  circling  joys  delight 
The  ravish'd  sense,    or  beauty  charms  the  sigiir. 
With  all  her  powers  enchanting  music  fail'd, 
And  pleasure's  syren  voice  no  more  prevail'd. 
The  merchant  kindling  then  with  proud  disdain. 
In  look  and  voice  assum'd  a  harsher  strain. 
In  absence  now  his  only  hope  remain'd; 
And  such  the  stern  decree  his  will  ord.ain'd, 
Deep  anguish^   while  Palemon  heard  his  doqift,  I J 

^  17 


■.    I 

iign'J.      J 


194  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Drew  o'er  his  lovely  face  a  saddening'  gloom 
In  vain  w^^^^  bitter  sorrow  he  reprn'd. 
No  tender  pity  touch'd  that  sordid  mind; 
To  thee,    brave  Albert,   was  the  charge  consi 
The  stately  ship  forsaken  England's  shore. 
To  regions  far  remottv  Palemon  bore. 
Incapable  of  change  th'  unhappy  youth 
Still  lavM  fair  Anna  with  eternal  truth; 
From  clime  to  clime  an  exile  doom'd  to  roam* 
His  heart  still  panted  for  its  secret  home, 

<«The  moon  had  circled  twice  her  wayward  zone. 
To  him  since  young  Arion  first  was  known: 
Who,    wandering  here  through  many  a  scene   renownM 
In  Alexandria's  port  the  vessel  found; 
Where, -anxious  to  review  his  native  shore. 
He  on  the  roaring  wave  embarked  once  more^ 
Oft, by  pale  Cynthia's  melan^iholy  light. 
With  him  Paleraon  kept  the  watch  of  night; 
In  whose  sad  bosom  many  a  sigh  supprest. 
Some  painful  secret  of  the  soul  confest. 
Perhnps  Arion  soon  the  cause  divin'd, 
Tho'  shunning  still  to  probe  a  wounded  mind. 
He  felt  the  chastity  of  silent  woe, 
Tho'  glad  the*balm  of  comfort  to  bestow; 
He,    wit]!  Palemon,    oft  recounted  o"er 
The  talcs  of  hapless,  love  in  ancient  lore, 
Recatl'd  to  memory  by  th'  adjacent  shore. 
The  scene  thus  present,   audits  story  Ijnown, 
The  lover  sighM  for  sorrows  not  his  ow».  ' 
Thus,   tho'  a  recent  date  their  friendship  bore," 
Soon  th^  ripe  metal  own'd  the  quick'ning  ore; 
Tor  in  one  tide  their  passions  seem'd  to  rollj>    ' 
By  kindred  age,    and  sympathy   of  soul. 

''These  o'er  th'  inferior  naval  train  preside 
The  course  determine,    or  the  commerce  guidt 
O'er  all  the  rest,    an  undistinguish'd  crew  ! 
Her  win^  of  deepest  shade  oblivioji  dz»e^/. 


} 


VINDICATED.  195 

««A  sullen  languor  still  the  skies  op'prest 
And  held  th'  unwilim;:;  ship  in  strong*  arrest, 
High  in  his  chariot  glowM  the  lamp  of  day. 
O'er  Ida  flaming  with  meridian  ray. 
KelaxM  from  toil  the  sailor's  range  the  shore,' 
Where  famine,    war,    and  storm  are  felt  no  morvT 
The  hour  to  social  pleasure  they  resign, 
And  black  remembrance  drown  in  generous  win^- 
On  deck,    beneath  the  shading  canvass  spread 
Rodmonda  rueful  tale  of  wonders  rea<i. 
Of  dragons  roaring  on  the  enchanted  coast^, 
The  hideous  goblin  and  the  yelling  ghost — 
But  with  Arion,   from  the  sultry  heat 
©f  noon,   Palemon  sought  a  cool  retreat. 
And  lo!   the  shore  w-ith  mournful  prospects  crown'cl'' 
The  rampart  torn  with  many  a  fatal  wound; 
The  ruiu'd  bulwark  tottering  d^er  the  strand^ 
iBewail  the  stroke  of  war^s  tremendous  hand. 
What  scenes  of  woe  this  hapless  isle  overspread  I 
Where  late  thrice  fifty  warriors  bled. 
Full  twice  twelve  summers  were  }'on  towers  assail'd; 
Till  barbarous  Ottoman  at  last  prevailed; 
Willie  thundering  mines  the  lovely  plains  o'erturn'd; 
While  heroes  fell,    and  domes  and  temples  burn'd  = 

«*But  now  before  them  happier  scenes  arise! 
Elysian  vales  salute  their  ravish'd  eyes: 
Olive  and  cedar  form'd  a  grateful  shade. 
While  light  with  gay  romantic  error  stray'd. 
The  myrtles  here  with  fond  caresses  twine, 
There^  rich  with  nectar,    melts  the  pregnant  vine. 
And,    lo!   the  stream,    renown'd  in  classic  song>. 
Bad  Lethe,    glides  the  silent  vale  along, 

*  The  intelligent  reader  will  readily  discover,  that  thesr 
remarks  allude  to  the  ever  memorable  sies^e  af  Candia, 
which  was  taken  fromihe  Venetians  by  the  Turks,  in 
1669;  being  then  considered  as  impregnable,  and  e^iieciny 
cd  the  most  formidable  fortress  in  the  universe. 


i9tj  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

On  mossy  banks,   beneath  the  citron  grove. 

The  youthful  wanderers  found  a  wild  alcove  .- 

Sott  o'er  the  fairy  region  languor  stole. 

And  with  sweet  melancholy  charmed  the  soul. 

Here  first  Palemon,    while  his  pensive  mind 

For  consolution  on  his  friend  reclin'd. 

In  pity's  bleeding  bosom  pour'd  the  stream 

Of  love's  soft  anguish,  and  of  grief  supreme — 

Too  true  thy  words!— by  sweet  remembrance  taught. 

My  heart  in  secret  bleed3  with  tender  though- ' 

In  vain  it  courts  the  solitary  shade. 

By  every  action,   every  look  betray'd'  — 

The  pride  of  generous  woe  disdains  appeal 

To  hearts  that  unrelenting  frosts  congeal. 

Yet  sure,  if  right  Palemon  can  divine. 

The  sense  of  gentle  pity  dwells  in  thine. 

Yes!  all  his  cares  thy  sympathy  shall  know» 

And  prove  the  kind  companion  of  his  woe, 

^'Albert,   thou  know'st  with  skill  and  science  grac^cf. 
In  humble  station  tho"  by  fortune  placM-, 
Yet  never  seaman  more  serenely  brave 
Led  Britain's  conquering  squadrons  o'er  the  wave, 
Wliere  full  in  view  Augusta's  spires  are  seen, 
"With  flowery  lawns,    and  waving  woods  between, 
A  peaceful  dwelling  stands  in  modest  pride, 
Where  Thames,    slow  winding,   rolls  his  ample  tic- 
There  live  the  hope  and  pleasure  of  his  life^ 
A  pious  daughter,  with  a  faithful  wife. 
For  his  return,    with  fond  officious  care. 
Still  every  grateful  object  these  prepare.. 
Whatever  can  allure  the  smell  or  sight. 
Or  wake;  the  drooping  spiritsi  to  delight. 

<«This  blooming  maid  in  virtue's  path  to  guide* 
Her  anxious  parents  all  tlieir  cares  apply'd. 
Her  spotless  soul,    where  soft  compassion  reign'd. 
No  vice  untun'd,    no  sickening  folly  stain'd* 
Not  fairer  grows  the  lily  of  the  vale, 
Whose  bosom  opens  to  the  vernal  gale:  1 


} 


VINDICATED.  19r 

Her  eye's  unconscious  of  their  fatal  charms, 
Thriird  every  heart  with  exquisite  alarms: 
Her  face,   in  beauty's  sweet  attraction  drestj 
The  smile  of  maiden  innocence -express'd; 
While  health,   that  rises  with  the  new-born  day, 
Breath'd  o'er  her  cheek  the  softest  blush  of  May. 
Still  in  her  look  complacence  smil'd  serene, 
She  mov'd  the  charmer  of  the  rural  s<;ene. 

**Twas  at  that  season  when  the  fields  resumb 
Their  loveliest  hues,    array'd  in  vernal  bloom; 
Yon  ship,   rich  freighted  from  the  Italian  shore, 
To  Thame's  fair  banks  her  costly  tribute  bore; 
"While  thus  my  father  saw  his  ample  hoard, 
from  this  return,   with  recent  treasures  stor'd; 
Me,    with  affairs  of  commerce  charged  he  sent 
To  Albert's  humble  mansion;   soon  I  went. 
Too  soon,   alas!    unconscious  of  th'  event — 
^rhere,    struck  with  sweet  surprise  and  silent  awe, 
The  gentle  mistress  of  my  hope  I  saw: 
There  wounded  first  by  love's  resistless  arms. 
My  glowing  bosom  throbb'd  with  strange  alarms. 
My  ever,  charming  Anna!    who  alone 
Can  all  the  frowns  of  cruel  fate  atone; 
Oh!    while  all  conscious  memory  holds  her  power, 
Can  I  forget  that  sweetly  painful  hour. 
When  from  those  eyes,    with  lovely  lightning  fraugh|» 
My  fluttering  spirits  first  the  infection  caught; 
When,    as  I  gaz'd,    my  faltering  tongue  bet*ray'd 
The  heart's  quick  tumults,    or  refus'd  its  aid; 
While  the  dim  light  my  ravish'd  eyes  forsook, 
And  every  limb  unstrung  with  terror  shook! 
With  all  her  powers  dissenting  reason  strove 
To  tame  at  first  the  kindling  flame  of  love; 
She  strove  in  vain!    subdu'd  by  charms  divine>' 
My  soul  a  victim  fell  at  beauty's  shrine, 
•Oft  from  the  din  of  bustling  life  I  stray'd. 
In  happier  scenes,   to  see  my  lovely  maid* 
^H^ull  oft,   where  Thames  his  wandering  current  leads, 
i^^BTeifov'd  at  evening  hour  thro'  flowery  meads. 


198  FEMALE  CHARACTEU 

There,  while  my  heart's  soft  anguish  I  rcveal'd. 

To  her  with  tender  sighs  my  hope  appeai'd. 

While  the  sweet  nymph  my  faithful  tale  believ'u, 

Her  snowy  breast  with  secret  tumult  heav'd: 

For,  train'd  in  rural  scenes  from  earliest  youth. 

Nature  was  hers,   and  innocence  and  truth, 

She  never  knew  the  city  damsel's  art, 

Whose  frothy  pertness  charms  the  vacant  heart* 

My  suit  prevail'd^   for  love  inform'd  my  tongue^ 

And  on  his  votary's  lips  persuasion  hung-. 

Her  eyes  with  conscious  sympathy  withdrew, 

And  o*er  her  cheek  the  rosy  current  flew. 

Thrice  happy  hours!    where  with  no  dark  allay, 

Life's  fairest  sunshine  gilds  the  vernal  day! 

For  here  the  sigh  that  soft  affection  heaves, 

From  stings  of  sharper  woe  the  soul  relieves. 

Elysian  scenes,    too  happy  long  to  last! 

Too  soon  a  storm  the  smiling  dawn  o'ercast! 

Too  soon  some  demon  to  my  father  bore 

The  tidings  that  his  heart  with  anguish  tore. — 

My  pride  to  kindle  with  dissuasive  voice, 

A  while  he  labor'd  to  degrade  my  choice? 

Then,    in  the  whTrlingwave  of  pleasure,  sought 

From  its  lov'd  object  to  divert  my  thought. 

With  equal  hope  he  might  attempt  to  bind. 

In  chains  of  a^^amant,   the  lawless  wind: 

For  love  had  aim'd  the  fatal  shaft  too  surej 

Hope  fed  the  wound,   and  absence  knew  no  cure. 

W^ith  alienated  look,    each  art  he  saw 

Still  baffled  by  superior  Nature's  law. 

His  anxious  mind  on  various  schemes  revolv'd,; 

At  last  on  cruel  exile  he  resolv'd. 

The  rigorous  doom  was  fix'd!    alas!  how  vaiiv 

To  him  of  tender  anguish  to  complain! 

His  soul,  that  never  love's  sweet  influence  felt. 

By  social  sympathy  could  never  melt; 

With  stern  command  to  Albert's  charge  he  gave> 

To  waft  Palemon  o'et  the  distant  wave. 


1 


VINDICATED.  IQfi 


*  ^»The  ship  was  laden  and  preparVl  to  sail. 
And  only  waited  now  the  leaduig  gale, 
'Twas  ours,   in  that  sad  period,   first  to  prove 
The  heart-felt  torments  of  despairing*  lover 
Th*  impatient  wish  that  never  feels  repose; 
Desire  that  with  perpetual  current  flows; 
The  fluctuating"  pangs  of  hope  and  fear; 
joy  distant  still,    and  sorrow  ever  liear! 
Thus,  while  the  pangs  of  thought  severer  grew. 
The  western  breezes  inauspicious  blevv-, 
Hastening  the  moment  of  our  last  adieu. 
The  vessel  parted  on  the  falling  tide; 
Yei  time  one  sacred  hour  to  love  suppiy*d. 
The  night  was  silent,    and  advancing  fast, 
The  moon  o*er   Thames  her  silver  mantle  cast. 
Impatient  hope  the  midnight  path  explored. 
And  led  me  to  the  nymph  my  soul  adorM. 
Soon  her  quick  footsteps  struck  my  listening  ear-^ 
She  came  confest!  the  lovely  maid  drew  near! 
But  ah!    what  force  of  language  can  impart 
Th'  impetuous  joy  that  glovv'd  in  either  heart! 
O!  ye,   whose  melting*  hearts  arc  form"d  to  prove 
The  trembling  ecstacies  of  genuine  love! 
AVhen  with  delicious  agony,    the  tliought 
Is  to  the  verge  of  high  delirium  wrought; 
Your  secret  sympathy  alone  can  tell 
What  raptures  then  the  throbbing  bosom  swell«: 
O'er  all  the  nerves  what  tender  tumults  roll. 
While  love  with  sweet  enchantment  melts  the  souf! 


<'In  transport  lost,    by  trembling  hope  imprest^ 
The  blushing  virgin  sunk  upon  my  breast; 
While  her's  congenial  beat  with  fond  alarms. 
Dissolving  softness!    paradise  of  charms; 
Flash'd  from  our  eyes  in  warm  transfusion  flew 
Our  blending  spirits,   that  each  other  drew! 
O,   bliss  supreme!   where  virtue's  self  can  melt 
Withjoys  that  guilty  pleasures  never  felt! 
Formed  to  refine  the  thought  with  chaste  desired 
Andk^indle  sweet  aflfection's  purest  fire? 


SOO  fEMALE  CHARACTEII 

Ah!   wherefore  should  my  hopeless  love,   she  cri^i 
While  sorrow  burst  with  interrupting*  sighs, 
Forever  destinM  to  lament  in  vain, 
Such  flattering"  fond  ideas  entertain^ 
My  heart  thro*  scenes  of  fair  illusion  stray'd 
To  joys  decreed  for  some  superior  maid. 
^Tis  mine  to  feel  the  sharpest  stings  of  grief 
Where  never  gentle  hope  affords  relief- 
Co  then,   dear  youth!   thy  father's  rage  atone; 
And  let  this  tortur'd  bosoiu  beat  alone! 
The  hovering  anger  yet  thou  may'st  appease; 
Go  then,    dear  youth!    nor  tempt  the  faithless  SQas, 
Find  out  some  happier  daughter  of  the  town. 
With  fortune's  fairer  joys  thy  love  to  croAvn; 
Where  smiling  o'er  thee  with  indulgent  ray, 
Prosperity  shall  hail  each  new-born  day. 
Too   well  thou  know'st  ^ood  Albert's  niggard  fate, 
JU  fitted  to  sustain  thy  father's  hate: 
Clo  then,    I  charge  thee,    by  thy  generous  love^ 
That  fatal  to  my  father  thus  may  prove! 
On  me  alone  let  dark  affliction  fall! 
WMiose  heart  for  thee  will  gladly  suffer  all. 
Then  haste  thee  hence,  Palemon,    ere  too  late, 
2s[or  rashly  hope  to  brave  opposing  fate. 

**She  "CeasM;   while  anguish  in  her  angel  face 
O^er  all  her  beauties  show'd  celestial  grace, 
Iviot  Helen,   in  her  bridal  charms  .array'd, 
Was  half  so  lovely  as  this  gentle  maid. 
O,    soul  of  all  my  wishes!    Ireply'd, 
Can  that  soft  fabric  stem  affliction's  tide! 
Canst  thou,   fair  emblem   of  exalted  truth! 
To  sorrow  doom  the  summer  of  thy  youthj 
And  I,  perfidious!   all  thy  sweetness  see 
ConsignM  to  lasting  misery  for  me? 
Sooner  this  moment  may  the  eternal  doom 
palemon  in  the  silent  earth  entomb!  \ 

Attest  thou  moon,    fair  regent  of  the  nights 
Whose  lustre  sickens  at  this  mournful  sightf 


VINDICATED.  .0 

Hy  all  the  pangs  divided  lovers  feeU 

That  sweet  possession  only  knows  to  heal; 

By  all  the  horrors  brooding*  o'er  the  deep^ 

Where  fate  and  ruin  sad  dominion  keep; 

Tho'  tyrant  dutyx)*er  me  threat'ning  stand?, 

And  claims  obedience  to  her  stern  commands. 

Should  fortune  cruel  or  auspicious  prove, 

Her  smile  or  frown  shall  never  change  my  Iovg! 

My  heart  that  now  must  every  joy  resign. 

Incapable  of  change  is  only  thine!— 

O,    cease  to  weep!  this  storm  will  yet  decay. 

And  these  sad  clouds  of  sorrow  melt  away, 

"While  through  the  rugged  path  of  life  we  go, 

All  mortals  taste  the  bitter  draughts  of  woe^ 

The  fam'd  and  great,   decreed  to  equal  pain. 

Full  oft  in  splendid  wretchedness  compl:iin, 

For  this  prosperity,   with  brighter  ray. 

In  smiling  contrast  gilds  our  vital  day. 

Thou  too,   sweet  raaid!    ere  twice  ten  months  art;  o'er\ 

Shalt  hail  Falemon  to  his  native  shore,  j- 

\yhere  never  interest  shall  divide  us  morc»  j 

<«Her  struggling  souf,   o^crwhelm'd  with  tender  grief 
Now  found  an  interval  of  short  relief; 
So  melts  the  surface  of  the  frozen  stream^ 
Beneath  the  wintry  sun's  departing  beam. 
With  warning  haste  the  shades  of  night  withdrew. 
And  gave  the  signal  of  a-  sad  adieu. 
As  on  my  neck  th'  afflicted  maiden  hung", 
A  thousand  racking  doubts  her  spirits,  wrung". 
She  wept  the  terrors  of  the  fearful  w;ive. 
Too  oft,  alas!  the  wandering  lover's  grave! 
With  soft  persuasion  I  dispell'd  her  fear, 
And  from  her  cheek  beguil'd  the  falling  tear. 
While  dying  fondness  languished   in  her  eyes, 
§.lie  pour'd  her  soul  to  heaven  in  suppliant  sighs^ 

*<Look  down  with  pity,    oh!   ye  powers  above. 
Who  hear  the  sad  complaint  of  blee^in-g  love! 


202  FEMALE  CHARACl'ER 

Ye,  who  the  secret  laws  of  fate  explore, 

Alone  can  tell  if  he  returns  no  rcore; 

Or,    if  the  hour  of  future  joy  remain, 

I^ong-  wish'd  atonement  of  long  sufl'erM  pain! 

Bid  every  guardian  minister  attend, 

And  from  all  ill  the  much  lov\i  youth  defend! 

With  g-rief  o'erwhelm'd  we  parted  twice  in  vain, 

And  urg-'d  by  strong  attachment  met  again. 

At  last,   by  cruel  fortune  torn  apart, 

While  tender  passion  streani'd  in  either  hearty 

Our  eyes  transfix'd  with  agonizing  look. 

One  sad  farewell,    one  last  embrace  we  took. 

Forlorn  of  hope  the  lovely  maid  I  left. 

Pensive  and  pale,  of  every  joy  bereft. 

She  to  her  silent  couch  retir*d  to  weep. 

While  her  sad  swain  embark'd  upon  the  deep^ 

**His  tale  thus  clos'd,   from  sympathy  ofgrie^ 
Faleraon's  bosom  felt  a  sweet  relief. 
The  hapless  bird,    thus  ravish'd  from  the  skies^, 
Where  all  forlorn  his  lovM  companion  flies. 
In  secret  long  bewails  his  cruel  fate, 
With  fond  remembrance  of  his  ringed  iniate: 
Till  grown  familiar  with  a  foreign  train. 
Composed  at  leng-th,   his  sadly  warbling  strain 
In  sweet  oblivion  charms  the  sense  of  pain. 

<*Ye  tender  maids,   in  whose  pathetic  souU 
^Compassion's  sacred  stream  impetuous  rolls; 
Whose  warm  affections   exquisitely  feel 
The  secret  wound  you  tremble  to  reveal! 
Ah!  may  no  wanderer  of  the  faithless  main 
Four  throu2:h  your  breast  the  soft  delicious  ban^! 
May  never  fatal  tenderness  approve 
The  f©nd  eflPusions  of  their  ardent  love. 
OI  warn'd  by  friendship's  counsel  learn  to  shun 
4rhe  fatal  path  where  thousands  are  undone! 

*«Now  as  the  youths,   returning  o'er  the  plain, 
Appr»a.ch''d  the  lonely  i^argln  of  tUc  niain^ 


i 


VINDICATED.  m$ 

First,   T\'ith  attention  roas'd,   Arion  ey*d 
The  graceful  lover,   form'd  in  Nature's  prlde^ 
His  frame  the  happiest  symmetry  dispiay\I; 
And  locks  of  waving  ^ojd  his  neck  array M. 
In  every  look  the  Paphian  graces  shine, 
Soft-breathins:  o'er  his  cheek  their  bloom  divine. 
With  lightened  heart  he  smil'd  serenely  gayj 
Like  young  Adonis  or  the  son  of  May, 
Not  Cytherea  from  a  fairer  swain 
Receiv'd  her  apple  on  the  Trojan  plain! 

**The  sun's  bright  orb  declining,    all  serene, 
Now  glanc'd  obliquely  o'er  the  woodland  scene* 
Creation  smiles  around,    on  every  spray 
The  warbling  birds  exalt  their  evening  lay. 
Blithe  skippinii:  o'er  yon  liillj  the  fleecy  train 
Join  the  deep  chorus  of  the  lowing  plain: 
The  golden  lime  and.  orange  there  were  seen^ 
On  fragrant  branches  of  perpetual  green. 
The  crystal  streams  that  velvet  meadows  lavs,. 
To  the  o^reen  ocean  roll  with  chiding  wave. 
The  glassy  ocean  ivushM  for^^ets  to  roar. 
But  trembling  murmurs  on  the  sandy  shore': 
And  lo!    his  surface,    lovely  to  behold. 
Glows  in  the  v/est,    a  sea  of  I i vino:  sold! 
While  all  above,    a  tliousand  Hveries  gay 
The  skies  with  pomp  ineffable  array. 
Arabian  sweets  perfume  the  happy  plains: 
Above,    beneath,    aground  inchantment  reigns  ■ 
While  ye,t  the  shades,    on  time's,  eternal  scal?^ 
With  long  vibration  deepen  o'er  the  vale; 
While  yet  the  songsters  of  the  vocal  grove 
With  dying  numbers  tune  the  soul  to  love; 
With  joyful  eyes  th' attentive  master  sees 
Th' auspicious  omens  of  an  eastern  breeze-^ — 
Now  radiant  Vesper  leads  the  starry  train, 
And  night  slow  draws  her  veil  o'er  land  and  maiH^^ 
Round  the  charg'd  bowl  the  sailors  form  a  ring, 
By  turns  recount  the  wondrous  tale  or  sing; 


€04  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

As  love  or  battle,   hardships  of  the  main,  "* 
Or  g-enial  wine,    awake  their  homely  strain,- 
Then  some  the  watch  of  nig-ht  alternate  keep, 
The  rest  lie  busied  in  oblivious  sleep. 

*<Deep  midnight  now  involves  tlie  liquid  skies; 
While  infant  breezes  from  the  shore  arise. 
The  waning  moon  behind  a  watery  shroud, 
Pale  glimmer'd  o'er  the  long-protracted  cloud. 
A  mighty  ring  around  her  silver  throne, 
With  parting  meteors  crossed,  portentous  shone. 
This  in  the  troubled  sky  full  oft  prevails, 
Oft  deemed  a  signal  of  tempestuous  gales.— 
While  young  Arion  sleeps,    before  his  sight 
Tumultuous  swim  the  visions  of  the  niirht. 
Now  blooming  Anna,    with  her  happy  swain, 
Approach'd  the  sacred  hymeneal  fane: 
Anon  tremendous  liphtninos  flash  between. 
And  funeral  pomp  and  weeping   Loves  are  seen:. 
Now  with  Palemon  up  a  rocky  steep, 
Wjjose  summit  trembles  o'er  the  roaring  deep. 
With  painful  step  he  climb'd:   while  far  above 
Bweet  Anna  charm'd  them  with  the  voice  of  love, 
Then  sudden  from  the  slippery  height  they  fell. 
While  dreadful  yawn'd  beneath  the  jaws  of  hell. 
Amid  this  fearful  trance,    a  thundcrinoj  sound 
He  hears-?— and  thrice  the  hollow  decks  rebound. 
Upstarting  from  his  couch,    on  deck  he  sprung, 
Thrice  with  shrill  note  the  boatswain'.s  whistle  rung' 
All  hands  unmoor!   proclaims  a  boisterous  cry: 
All  hands  unmoor!   the  cavern  rocks  reply! 
Rous*d  from  repose,    aloft  the  sailors  swarm. 
And  with  their  levers  soon  the  windlass  arm.* 


*The  windlass  is  a  sort  of  !aro;e  roller,  used  to  wind 
In  the  cable,  or  heave  up  the  anchor.  It  is  turned  about 
"V^ertically  by  a  number  of  long  bars  or  levers;  in  which 
operation  it  is  prevented  from  recoiling,   by  the  paulsv 


VINDICATED.  205 


1 


The  order  g^iren,   up-springing  whh  a  bound, 

They  lodge  the  bars,   and  wheel  their  engine  round: 

At  every  turn  the  clanging  pauls  resound, 

Uptorn  reluctant  from  its  oozy  cave, 

The  ponderous  anchor  rises  o'er  the  wave. 

Along  their  slippery  masts  the  yards  ascend,. 

And  high  in  airt  he  canvass  wings  extend. 

Redoubling  cords  the  lofty  canvass  guide. 

And  thro'  inextricable  mazes  glide. 

The  lunar  rays  with  long  reflection  gleam. 

To  light  the  vessel  o'er  the  silver  stream; 

Along  the  glassy  plain  serene  she  glides, 

While  azure  radiance  trembles  on  her  sides. 

From  east  to  north  the  transient  breezes  play,. 

And  in  th'   Egyptian  quarter  soon  decay. 

A  calm  ensues;  they  dread  th'  adjacent  shorev 

The  boats  with  rowers  arm'd  are  sent  before; 

With  cordage  fasten'd  to  the  lofty  prow. 

Aloof  to  sea  the  stately  ship  they  tow.* 

The  nervous  crew  their  sweeping  oars  extend. 

And  pealing  shouts  the  shore  of  Candia  rend. 

Success  attends  their  skill;  the  danger's  o'er. 

The  port  is  doubled  and  beheld  no  more» 

"Now  morn,  her  lamp  pale-glimmerings  on  the  sights 
Scattered  before  her  van  reluctant  Night. 
She  comes  not  in  refulgent  pomp  array'd. 
But  sternly  frowning,   wrapt  in  sullen  shade> 
Above  incumbent  vapors,   Idah's  height. 
Tremendous  rock!    emerges  on  the  sight. 
North-east  the  guardian  isle  of  Standia  lies, 
And  westward  Frcschin's  woody  capes  arise. 

«<The  natives,   while  the  ship  departs  the  land;, 
Ashore  with  admiration  gazing  stand. 


*Towing  is  the  operation  of  drawing  a  ship  forward^, 
^y  means  of  ropes,  extended  from  her  forepart,  to  ode 
©T  nioTe  of  the  boat$  rowing  before  hei^. 

18 


W6  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Majestically  slow,   before  the  breeze. 

In  silent  pomp  she  inarches  on  the  seas. 

Her  milk  white  bottom  casts  a  softer  gleam. 

While  trembling  thro'  the  green  translucent  stream. 

High  o'er  the  poop,    the  flattering  winds  unfurl'd 

Th'  imperial  flag  that  rules  the  watery  world. 

Deep-blushing  armors  all  the  tops  invest^ 

And  warlike  trophies  either  quarter  dress'd; 

Then  lowered  the  masts;  the  canvass  swelPd  on  high 5 

And  waving  streamers  floated  in  the  sky.  ^ 

Thus  the  rich  vessel  moves  in  trim  array, 

I..ike  some  fair  virgin  on  her  bridal  day. 

Tiius,   like  a  swan  she  cleaves  the  wat'^ry  plain^ 

The  pride  and  wonder  of  the  -.^gean  main! 

**Now,    while  on  high  the  freshening  gale  she   feeU 
The  ship  beneath  her  lofty  pressure  reels. 
Th'  auxiliar  sails  that  court  a  gentle  breeze. 
From  their  high  stations  sink  by  slow  degrees. 
The  watchful  ruler  of  the  helm  no  more, 
"With  fix'd  attention,    eyes  the  adjacent  shore; 
But  by  the  oracle  of  truth  below. 
The  wondrous  magnet  guides  the  wayward  prow. 
The  wind,   that  still  th'  impressive  canvass  swell'd. 
Swift  and  more  swift  the  yielding  bark  impell'd. 
Four  hours  the  sun  his  high  meridian  throne 
Had  left,   and  o'er  ailantic  regions  shone; 
Still  blacker  clouds,   that  all  the  skies  invfide. 
Draw  o'er  his  sullied  orb  a  dismal  shade. 
A  squall  deep  lowering  blots  the  southern  sky, 
Before  whose  boisterous  breath  the  waters  fly. 
Its  weight  the  topsails,    can  no  more  sustain, 
Heef  topsails,   reef,   the  boatswain  calls  again! 

<«Now,  borne  impetuous  o'er  the  boiling  deeps, 
Her  course  to  Attic  shores  the  vessel  keeps: 
The  pilots,   as  the  waves  behind  her  swell, 
Still  A^ith.the  wheeling  stern  their  force  repeL 
High  o'er  the  poop  th'  audacious  seas  aspire^ 
tlproU'd  in  hills  of  fluctuating  fire. 


VINDICATED.  20 

As  some  fell  conqueror,   frantic  with  success* 

Sheds  o'er  the  nations  ruin  and  distress; 

So  while  the  wat'ry  wilderness  he  roams, 

Incens'd  to  sevenfold  rage  the  Tempest  foams; 

And  o'er  the  trembling"  pines,    above,  below, 

Shrill  thro'  the  cordage  howls,   with  notes  of  woe. 

Now  thunders,   wafted  from  the  burning  zone, 

Growl  from  afar,   a  deaf  and  hollow  groan! 

The  ship's  high  battlements,  to  either  side 

For  ever  rocking,   drink  the  briny  tide: 

It  seem'd,   the  wrathful  angel  of  the  wind 

Had  all  the  horrors  of  the  skies  combin'df 

And  here,   to  one  ill-fated  ship  oppos'd. 

At  once  the  dreadful  magazine  disclosed. 

But  lo!   at  last,   from  tenfold  darkness  borne. 

Forth  issues  o'er  the  wave  the  weeping  morn. 

Hail  sacred  vision!    who  on  orient  wing. 

The  cheering  dawn  of  light  propitious  bring. 

All  nature  smiling  hail'd  the  vivid  ray. 

That  gave  her  beauties  to  returning  dayt 

All  but  our  ship  that,    groaning  on  the  tide, 

No  kind  relief,    no  gleam  of  hope  descry'd. 

For  now,   in  front,   her  trembling  inmates  see 

The  hills  of  Greece,   emerging  on  the  lee. 

So  the  lost  lover  views  that  fatal  morn. 

On  which  forever  from  his  bosom  torn, 

The  nymph  ador*d  resigns  her  blooming  charms> 

To  bless  with  love  some  happier  rival's  armSi 

So  to  Eliza  dawn'd  that  cruel  day, 

That  tore  JEneas  from  her  arms  away; 

That  saw  him  parting,    never  to  return, 

Herself  in  funeral  flames  decreed  to  burn: 

0  yet  in  clouds,   thou  genial  source  of  light. 

Conceal  thy  radiant  glories  from  our  sight! 

Go,  with  thy  smile  adorn  the  happy  plain. 

And  gild  the  scenes  where  health  and  pleasure  reign; 

But  let  not  here,    in  scorn  thy  wanton  beam 

Insult  the  dreadful  grandeur  of  my  theme! 


208  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

<«Biit  now  the  Athenian  mountains  they  descry. 
And  o'er  the  siirg-e  Colonna  frowns  on  high; 
Besides  the  cape's  projecting*  verge  are  plac'd 
A  range  of  columns,   long  by  time  defac'd; 
First  planted  by  devotion  to  sustain. 
In  elder  times,    Tritonia's  sacred  fane. 
Foams  the  wild  beach  below  with  mad'ning  rage^ 
Where  waves  and  rocks  a  dreadful  combat  wage. 

*«With  mournful  look  the  seamen  ey'd  the  strand. 
Where  death's  inexorable  jaws  expand? 
Now,   on  the  trembling  shrouds,   before,   behind. 
In  mute  suspense  they  mount  into  the  wind.—- 
The  genius  of  the  deep  on  rapid  wing. 
The  black  eventful  moment  seem'd  to  bring. 
The  steersmen  now  received  their  last  command 
To  wheel  the  vessel  sidelong  to  the  strand. 
Twelve  sailors  on  the  foremast  who  depend. 
High  on  the  platform  of  the  top  ascend; 
Fatal  retreat!   for  while  the  plunging  prow 
immergcs  headlong  in  the  waves  below, 
Down  prest  by  watVy  weight  the  bowsprit  bends^, 
And  from  above  the  stem  deep-crashing  rends. 
Beneath  her  beak  the  floating  ruins  lie; 
The  foremast  totters,   unsustain'd  on  high: 
And  now  the  ship,   fore-lifted  by  the  sea, 
Hurls  the  tall  fabrick  backward  o'er  her  lee; 
While  in  the  general  wreck,   the  faithful  stay 
Brags  the  main  topmast  from  its  post  away. 
Flung  from  the  mast  the  seamen  strive  in  vain] 
Thro'  hostile  floods  their  vessel  to  regain. 
The  waves  they   buffet,   till  bereft  of  strength^ 
O'erpower'd  they  yield  to  cruel  fate  at  length, 
The  hostile  waters  close  around  their  head. 
They  sink  forever,   number'd  with  the  deadt 
Those  who  remain  their  fearful  doom  await, 
Nor  longer  mourn  their  lost  companions'  fate. 
The  heart  that  bleed^  with  sorrows  all  its  own, 
forgets  the  pangs  of  friendship  to  bemoan.^ 


VINDICATED.  209 

"And  now  lash'd  on  by  destiny  severe. 
With  horror  fraught,   the  dreadful  scene  drew  near! 
The  ship  hangs  hovering  on  the  verge  of  death. 
Hell  yawns,   rocks  rise,   and  breakers  roar  beneath. 
In  vain,    alas!    the  sacred  shades  of  yore 
Would  arm  the  mind  with  philosophic  lore; 
In  vain  they'd  teach  us,    at  the  latest  breath. 
To  smile  serene  amid  the  pangs  of  death. 
E'en  Zeno's  self,  and  Epictetus  old. 
This  fell  abyss  had  shudder'd  to  behold- 
Had  Socrates,    for  godlike  virtue  fam'd. 
And  wisest  of  the  sons  of  men  proclaimed. 
Beheld  this  scene  of  frenzy  and  distress. 
His  soul  had  trembled  to  its  last  recess! — 
O  yet  confirm  my  heart,   ye   powers  above, 
This  last  tremendous  shock  of  fate  to  prove. 
The  tottering  frame  of  reason  yet  sustain! 
Nop  let  this  total  ruin  whirl  my  brain! 

*<In  vain  the  cords  and  axes  were  prepar'd. 
For  now  th'  audacious  seas  insult  the  yard? 
High  o'er  the  ship  they  throw  a  horrid  shade. 
And  o'er  her  burst  in  terrible  cascade. 
Uplifted  on  the  surge,    to  heaven  she  flies. 
Her  shatter'd  top  half  buried  in  the  skies; 
Then  head  long  plunging  thunders  on  the  ground, 
Earth  groans!  air  trembles!    and  the  deep  resound. 
Her  giant  bulk  the  dread  concussion  feels, 
And  quivering  with  the  wound,    in  torment  reels. 
So  reels  convuls'd  with  agonizing  throes. 
The  bleeding  bull  beneath  the  murd'rer's  blows. 
Again  she  plunges!  hark!    a  second  shock 
Tears  her  strong  bottom  on  the  marble  rock! 
Down  on  the  vale  of  death,    with  dismal  cries, 
The  fated  victims  shuddeVmg  roll  their  eyes. 
In  wild  despair;    while  yet  another  stroke, 
/With  deep  convulsion,     rends  the  solid  oak: 
Till  like  the  mine,    in  whose  infernal  cell 
The  lurking  demons  of  destruction  dwell, 

18# 


^la  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

At  length  asunder  torn,   her  frame  divides^ 
And  crashing"  spreads  in  ruin  o'er  the  tides. 

*'0!  were  it  mine  with  tuneful  Maro's  art, 
To  wake  to  sympathy  the  feeling-  heart; 
Like  him  the  smooth  and'mpurnful  verse  to  dress 
In  all  the  pomp  of  exquisite  distress! 
Then  too  severely  taught  by  cruel  fate 
To  share  in  all  the  perils  I  relate. 
Then  might  I  with  unrival'd  strains  deplore 
Th'  impervious  horrors  of  a  leeward  shore. 

«<As  o'er  the  surge  the  stooping  mainmast  hung. 
Still  on  the  rigging  thirty  seamen  clung^ 
Some,  struggling,    on  a  broken  crag  were  cast. 
And  there  by  oozy  tangles  j^rappled  fast; 
Awhile  they  bore  th'  o'erwhelming  billows  rage. 
Unequal  combat  with  their  fate  to  wage; 
TilJ  all  benumb'd  and  feeble  they  forego 
Their  slippery  hold,    and  sink  to  shades  below. 
Soaie  from  the  main-yard-arm  impetuous  thrown 
On    iiarble  ridges,    die  withouta  groan. 
Three  with  Palemon  on  their  skill  depend. 
And  from  the  wreck  on  oars  and  rafts  descend. 
Now  on  the  mountain  wave  on  high  they  ride. 
Then  downward  plunge  beneath  th*  involving  tide; 
Till  one  who  seems  in  agony  to  strive. 
The  whirling  breakers  heave  on  shore  alive; 
The  rest  a  speedier  end  of  anguish  knew. 
And  prestthe  stony  beach,    a  lifeless  crew! 

««Next,    O,    unhappy  chief!   th*  eternal  doom 
Of  Heaven  decreed  thee  to  the  brin}'^  tomb! 
What  scenes  of  misery  torment  thy  view! 
"W^hat  painful  strug-gles  of  thy  dying  crew! 
Thy  perish'd  hopes  all  buried  in  the  flood, 
O'crspread  with  corses!   red  with  human  blood! 
So  pierc'd  with  anguish  hoary  Priam  gazM, 
When  Troy's  imperial  domes  in  ruin  blaz'd,- 


VINDICATED.  gil 

"While  he,   severest  sorrows  dootnM  to  feel, 

Bxpir'd  beneath  the  victor's  murdering  steel. 

Thus  with  his  helpless  partners  to  the  last, 

Sad  refuge!   Albert  hugs  the  fioat<ng  mast,* 

His  soul  could  yet  sustain  this  mortal  blow. 

But  droops  alas!    beneath  superior  woe; 

Tor  now  soft  nature's  sympathetic  chain 

Tugs  at  his  yearning  heart  with  powerful  strain,; 

His  faithful  wife  forever  doom'd  to  mourn 

For  him,    alas!    who  never  shall  return; 

To  black  adversity's  approach  expos'd, 

With  want  and  hardships  unforeseen  enclosed? 

His  lovely  daughter  left  without  a  friend, 

Her  innocence  to  succour  and  defend: 

By  youth  and  indigence  set  forth  a  prey 

To  lawless  guilt,    that  flatters  to  betray — 

While  these  reflections  rack  his  feehng  mind, 

Rodmond,   who  hung  bes"de,   his  grasp  rcsign'd; 

And,    as  the  tumbling  waters  o'er  him  roll'd. 

His  outstretch'd  arms  the  master  s  legs  enfold — 

Sad  Albert  feels  the  dissolution  near, 

And  strives  in  vain  his  fetterM  limbs  to  clear; 

For  death  bids  every  clinching  joint  adhere. 

All  faint  to  heaven  he  throws  his  dying  eyes. 

And,    <<0,    protect  my  wife  and  child!  ■'  he  cries.' 

The  gushing  streams  roll  back  th"  unfinished  sound! 

He  gasps!    he  dies!    and  tumbles  to  the  ground! 

"Five  only  left  of  all  the  perish'd  throng. 
Yet  ride  the  pine  which  shoreward  drives  along; 
With  these  Arion  still  his  hold  secures, 
And  all  the  assaults  of  hostile  waves  endures. 
O'er  the  dire  prosp«-ct3  as  for  life  he  strives. 
He  looks  if  poor  Palemon  yet  survives. 
Ah!    wherefore,    trusting  to  unequal  art, 
Didst  thou,    incautious!   from  the  wreck  depart' 
Alas!    these  rocks  all  human  skill  defy. 
Who  strikes  them  once  beyond  relief  must  die; 
And  now  sure  wounded  thou  perhaps  art  tost 
<!^n  these,    or  in  somct  oozy  cavera  lost; 


! 


^12  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Xhus  thought  Arion,   anxious  gazing. round. 

In  vam,    his  eyes  no  more  Palemon  found. 

The  Daemons  of  destruction  hover  nigh. 

And  thick  their  mortal  shafts  commissioned  fly: 

And  now  a  breaking  surge,    with  forceful  sway, 

Two  next  Anon  furious  tears  away. 

Hurl 'd  on  the  crags,    behold,   they   grasp!   they    blee^l 

And  groaning,    cling  upon  th'  elusive  weed! 

Another  billow  bursts  in  boundless  roar! 

Arion  sinks,   and  memory  views  no  more! 

*<Ah!  total  night  and  horror  here  preside! 
My  stun'd  ear  tingles  to  the  whizzing  tide! 
It  is  the  funeral  knell!    and  gliding  near, 
Methinks  the  phantoms  of  the  dead  appear! 

'*But,   lo,   emerging  from  the  watery   rave. 
Again  they  float  incumbent  on  the  wave. 
Again  the  dismal  prospect  opens  round, 
The  wreck,    the  shores,   the   dying,    and  the  drowned  I 
And  see!  enfeebled  by  repeated  shocks. 
These  two  who  scramble  on  th^  adjacent  rocks, 
Their  faithless  hold  no  longer  can  retain. 
They  sink  o'erwhelm'd,    and  never  rise  again; 

«<T>vo  with  Arion  yet  the  mast  upbore 
That  now  above  the  ri^'ges  reach\i  the  shore; 
Still  trembling  to  descend  they  downward  gaze 
"With  horror  pale,    and  torpid  with   amaze: 
The  floods  recoil!    the  grounds  appear  below  1 
And  life's  faint  embers  now  rekindling  glow; 
Awhile  they  wait  th'  exhausted  waves  retreat. 
Then  climb  slovf  up  the  beach  with  hands  and  feetc 
O,  heaven!    deliver'd  by  whose  sovereign  hand. 
Still  on  the  brink  of  hell  they  shuddering  stand, 
Keceive  the  languid  incense  they  bestow, 
That  damp  with  death  appears  not  yet  to  glow' 
To  thee  each  soul  the  warm   oblation  pays, 
"With  trembling  ardor  of  unequal  praise^ 


VINDICATED.  SIS 

In  every  heart  dismay  with  wonder  strives^ 
And  hope  the  sickeji'd  spark  of  life  revives  j 
Her  mag-ic  powers  their  exil'd  health  restore. 
Till  horror  and  despair  are  felt  no  more. 

<*A  troop  of  Grecians  who  inhabit  nigh. 
And  oft  these  perils  of  the  deep  descry, 
Eous'd  by  the  blust'ring"  tempest  of  the  night, 
Anxious  had  climb'd  Colonna's  neighboring  height;- 
When  gazing  downward  on  th'  adjacent  flood. 
Full  to  their  view  the  scene  of  ruin  stood. 
The  surf  with  mangled  bodies  strew'd  around* 
And  those  yet  breathing  on  the  sea-washM  ground? 
Tho*  lost  to  science  and  the  nobler  arts. 
Yet  nature's  lore  informed  their  feeling  hearts; 
Straight  down  the  vale  wiih  hastening  steps  they  hied, 
Th'  unheppy  sufferers  to  assist  and  guide. 

*<Meanwhile,    those  three  escapM,   beneath   explore 
The  first  adventurous  youth  who  reach'd  the  shore: 
Panting,   with  eyes  averted  from  the  day, 
Prone,   helpless,    on  the  tangly  beach  he  lay-** 
It  is  Palemon! — Oh!    what  tumults  roll 
With  hope  and  terror  in  Arion's  soul! 
If  yet  unhurt  he  lives  again  to  view 
His  friend  and  this  sole  remnant  of  our  crewS 
With  us  to  travel  through  this  foreign  zone. 
And  share  the  future  good  or  ill  unknown, 
Arion  thus;   but,    ah!    sad  doom  of  fate, 
'That  bleeding  memory  sorrows  to  relate^ 
While  yet  afloat  on  some  resisting;  rock, 
His  ribs  were  dash'd,    and  fractur'd  with  the  »hock'|/ 
Heart  piercing  sight!    those  cheeks  so  late  array'd 
In  beauty's  bloom,   are  pale  with  mortal  shade  1 
Distilling  blood  his  lovely  breast  o'erspread. 
And  clogg'dthe  golden  tresses  of  his  head! 
Nor  yet  the  lungs  by  this  pernicious  stroke 
Were  wounded,    or  the  vocal  organs  broke, 
Down  from  his  neck,   with  blazing  gems  array'i;^ 
Thy  image,   lovely  Anaa:  hung  p  or  tray 'd| 


214  FEMALE  CHARACTER    . 

Th'  unconscious  figure  smiling^  all  serene. 
Suspended  in  a  golden  chain  was  seen. 
Hadstthou,   soft  maiden!  in  this  hour  of  woe, 
Beheld  him  writhing  from  the  deadly  blow. 
What  force  of  art,    what  language  could  express 
Thine  agony,,  thine  exquisite  distress? 
But  thou,   alas!    art  doomM  to  weep  in  vaia 
For  him  thine  eyes  shali  never  see  again! 
With  dumb  amazement  pale,   Arion  gaz'd, 
And  cautiously  the  wounded  youth  upraisM: 
Palemonthen,    with  cruel  pangs  opprest. 
In  faltering  accents  thus  his  friend  address'd* 

«*0!  rescu'd  from  destruction  late  so  nigh* 
Beneath  whose  fatal  influence  doom'd  I  lie; 
Are  we  then  exil'd  to  this  last  retreat 
Of  life  unhappy!  thus  decreed  to  meet? 
Ah!   how  unlike  what  yester-morn  enjoy'd^ 
Enchanting  hopes,    for  ever  now  destroyed! 
For  wounded  far  beyond  all  healing  power, 
Palemon  dies,    and  this  his  final  hour; 
By  those  fell  breakers,    where  in  vain  I  strove^ 
At  once  cut  off  from  fortune,    life  and  love! 
Far  other  scenes  must  soon  present  my  sight. 
That  lie  deep  buried  yet  in  tenfold  night. 
Ah!  wretched  father  of  a  wretched  son, 
Whom  thy  paternal  prudence  has  undone! 
How  will  remembrance  of  this  blinded  care 
Bend  down  thy  head  with  anguish  and  despair  I 
Such  dire  effects  from  avarice  arise. 
That,    deaf  to  nature's  voice,    and  vainly  wise. 
With  force  severe  endeavors  to  control 
The  noblest  passions  that  inspire  the  soul. 
But,    O,   thou  sacred  Power!    whose  law  connects; 
Th'  eternal  chain  of  causes  and  effects. 
Let  not  thy  chastening  ministers  of  rage 
Afflict  with  sharp  remorse  his  feeble  age! 
And  you,  Arion!    who  w;th  these  the  last 
©f  all  our  crew  survive  the  shipwreck  past-* 


VINDICATED.  215 

Ab,   cease  to  mourn!   those  friendly  tears  restrain. 

Nor  ^ive  my  dying  moments  keener  pain! 

Since  Heaven  may  soon  thy  wandering  steps  restore. 

When  parted  hence,   to  Engiand^s  distant  shore; 

Siiou'id'st  thou  the  unwilling  messenger  of  fate, 

To  him  the  tragic  story  first  relate. 

Oh!   friendship's  generous  ardor  then  suppress. 

Nor  him  the  fatal  cause  of  my  distress; 

Nor  let  each  horrid  incident  sustain 

The  lengthened  tale  to  aggravate  his  pain. 

Ah!   then  remember  well  my  last  request. 

For  her  who  reigns  forever  in  my  breast; 

Yet  let  him  prove  a  father  and  a  friend, 

The  helpless  maid  to  succour  and  defend. 

Say,    I  this  suit  implor'd  with  partinoj  breath. 

So  Heaven  befriend  him  at  his  hour  of  death! 

But,    Oh!  how  lovely  Anna  should'st  tliou  tell 

What  dire  untimely  end  thy  friend  befel, 

Draw  o'er  the  dismal  scene  soft  pity*s  veil, 

And  lightly  touch'd  the  lamentable  tale; 

Say,   that  my  love,   inviolably  true. 

No  change,    no  diminution  ever  knew,- 

LiOl   her  bright  image  pendent  on  my  neck, 

IsallPaiemon  rescuM  from  the  wreck; 

Take  it  and  say,    when  panting  in  the  wave, 

I  strQo:2:led,   life  and  this  alone  to  save! 

*<My  soul  that  fluttering  hastens  to  be  free. 
Would  then  a  train  of  thoughts  impart  to  thee. 
But  strives  in  vain! — the  chillino;  ice  of  death 

o 

Congeals  my  blood,   and  choaks  the  stream  of  deatk. 

Kesign'd  she  quits  her  comfortless  abode. 

To  course  that  long,    unknown,    eternal  road. — 

O,    sacred  source  of  ever  living  light! 

Conduct  the  weary  wanderer  in  her  flight! 

Direct  her  onward  to  that  peaceful  shore. 

Where  peril,    pain,   and  death  are  felt  no  more! 

«*When  thow  some  tale  of  hapless  love  shall  heai> 
That  steals  from  pity's  eye  the  melting  tear^ 


k 


216  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Of  two  chaste  hearts  by  mutual  paasion  join*d/ 
To  absence,   sorrow,   and  despair  consigned. 
Oh!  then  to  swell  the  tides  of  social  woe. 
That  heal  the  afflicted  bosom  they  o'erilow. 
"While  memory  dictates,    this  sad  shipwreck  tell, 
And  what  distress  thy  wretched  friend  befel! 
Then  wliile  in  streams  of  soft  compassion  crown'd. 
The  swains  lament,   and  maidens  weep  around: 
While  lisping  children,   touched  with  infant  fear. 
With  wonder  gaze,  and  drop  the  unconscious  tear: 
Oh!  then  this  moral  bid  their  souls  retain, 
**All  thoughts  of  happiness  on  earth  are  vain.'* 

«<The  last  faint  accents  trembled  on  his  tonguC/^ 
That  now  inactive  to  the  palate  clung; 
His  bosom  heaves  a  mortal  groan — he  dies! 
And  shades  eternal  sink  upon  his  eyesl 

**As  thus  defac'd  in  death  Palemon  lay, 
Arion  gaz*d  upon  the  lifeless  clay; 
Transfix'dhe  stood,    with  awful  terror  fill'd, 
While  down  his  cheek  the  silent  drops  distiU'iv 

<<0h,  ill  star'd  vot'ry  of  unspotted  truth! 
Untimely  perish'd  in  the  bloom  of  youth. 
Should  e'er  thy  friend  arrive  in  Albion's  land? 
He  will  obey  tho'  painful  thy  demand: 
His  tongue  the  dreadful  story  shall  display^ 
And  all  the  horrors  of  this  dismal  day! 
Disastrous  day!    what  ruin  hast  thou  bred! 
What  anguish  to  the  living  and  the  dead! 
How  hast  thou  left  the  widow  all  forlorn. 
And  ever  doom'd  the  orphan  child  to  mourn; 
Through  life's  sad  journey  hopeless  to  complaJn'| 
Can  sacred  justice  these  events  ordain? 
But,  O,  my  soul!   avoid  that  wond'rous  mazc^ 
Where  reason,   lost  in  endless  error,    stray«l 
Asthrough  this  thorny  vale  of  life  we  run,  , 
'^rcat  cause  of  all  effects,    Thy  will  he  don^ 


?  w£L  H  jk    X  1« 


^il^  Z4'J)DmilS^SJ 


TO 


YOUNG  W^OMBN. 


Impressed  with  tenfold  solicitude  for  your  wel- 
fare, deeply  sensible  of  your  jrreat  importance  and 
respectability  in  society,  and  convinced  that  on 
your  intellectual  improvement  and  prosperity,  nay 
the  very  existence  of  society  depends;  seeing  the 
hosts  of  dangers  which  attend  you  in  your  journey 
through  life,  and  beins;  assured  that  unless  you  take 
prudence  for  your  guide  you  will  undoubtedly  be 
enveloped  in  the  vortex  of  vanity  and  sensuality  ; 
which  will  infallibly  imbitter  your  future  days,  and 
cause  shipwreck  at  last.  1  say,  being  cogently  im- 
pressed with  these  sentiments,  as  authentic  as  they 
are  important,  I  take  the  liberity,  with  the  most  re- 
spectful considerations  and  the  purest  intentions,  to 
suggest  a  few  thoughts  for  your  serious  considera- 
tion, which,  like  beacons  to  the  mariner,  may  point 
out  the  dangerous  rocks  and  shoals  that  are  profuse- 
ly interspersed  through  the  devious  paths  of  folly. 
I  hope  you  will  lay  aside,  for  a  little  time  the  novel 
and  the  romance,  and  read  before  you  judp*e  of  the 
merits  or  demerits  of  my  arguments.  You  must 
not  suppose  from  my  animadversions,  that  I  cherish 
an  antipathy  to  the  sex.  JNo  man  can  he  a  more  sin- 
cere admirer  of  them  than  myself;  wl^ile  virtuous 
1  admire  and  venerate  them  :  but  w^hen  vicious  I 
pity  them. 


«2I,  FEMALE  CHARACtER 

**  Thcheedless  fair,  who  stoops  to  guiJty  joys, 
A  man  may  pity— but  he  must  despise.'* 

You  will,  perhaps,  glance  indifferently  and  super- 
ficially over  the  subsequent  strictures,  as  if  they 
were  not  intimately  connected  with  your  future 
prosperity.  The  volatile  fair  one,  while  under  the 
parental  roof,  seldom  forms  an  estimate,  or  even  an- 
ticipates the  losses  by  which  her  paternal  fortune 
v/ill  be  assailed  ;  the  seduction  with  which  her  hon- 
or will  be  environed ;  the  pestilential  vapours  pro- 
ceeding from  the  mouth  of  calumny  and  defamation, 
with  which  her  sacred  character  will  be  attacked  by 
coup-de-main^  or  the  innovations  of  popular  degen- 
eracy, and  vile  and  vulgar  fashion,  which  will  lay 
siege,  not  only  to  property,  honor  and  character,  but 
also  the  more  important  interest  of  that  immortal 
spark  of  heavenly  flame,  the  soul ;  and  will,  no 
doubt,  without  the  utmost  caution  and  discretion, 
carry  all  by  storm,  without  suffering  the  besieged 
party  to  make  even  an  honorable  capitulation.  For 
the  potency  of  custom,  and  (I  had  almost  said)  tha 
omnipotence  of  fashion,  precludes  resistance,  and 

f guarantees  success  to  the  innovators  of  female  de- 
icacy. 

The  invincible  solicitude  I  impressivly  feel  for 
th^  social  and  celestial  happiness  of  my  fair  readers, 
and  that  they  may  escape  the  moral  mischief  which 
mental  incontinency,  and  fashionable  obscenity 
necessarily  engender,  bears  a  striking  similarity 
to  the  parental  ardour  which  I  anticipate,  when 
with  my  mind's  eye,  I  peep  into  futurity,  and  en- 
deavor to  recognize  the  fate  of  my  two  darling  boys 
who  are  the  sole  comfort  of  my  declining  years,  the 
solace  of  my  sorrows,  and  the  promoters  of  my 
earthly  joy.  To  express  the  tender  solicitude  I  feel 
Ib.r  their  future  prosperity  and  eternal  felicity, 
w^ould  exceed  human  conception  ;  when  I,  with  rap- 
"L^x^y  gaze  upon  their  smiling  countenances,,  the-  agcH. 


VINDICATED.  SSS 

nizing  thought  darts  spontaneously  into  my  wounds 
ed  mind,  that,  perhaps,  these  smiling,  unconscious 
boys,  when  1  am  deposited  in  my  solitary  grave,  and 
mouldering  to  my  native  dust,  will  unhappily  be- 
come the  destroyers  of  female  virtue,  the  murderers 
of  human  kind,  and  the  ministers  of  woe;  as  per- 
haps, they  will  inherit,  by  hereditary  succession,  all 
the  native  depravity,  without  a  particle  of  the  senti- 
mental philanthopy  of  their  father. 

While  thus  in  thought  I  view  their  future  woe, 
And  from  their  eyes  behold  their  sorrows  flow; 
When  the  unthinking  cherubs  joyful  spring. 
Climb  on  my  knees,  or  to  my  bosom  cUng, 
Or  stretch  their  infant  arms  with  fond  desire, 
And  prattling  call  their  melancholy  sire. 
While  round  my  neck  their  loving  arms  they  throw, 
And  kiss  my  cheeks  v/here  tears  unbidden  flo\7^ 
"Unconscious  of  my  grief — their  future  woe. 
Their  dear  caresses  meet  a  sad  return, 
For  while  they  smile  their  joyless  parents  raouri:^^ 
While  imag'd  to  my  boding  thought  appears^ 
The  many  woes  that  wait  their  future  years* 

Gladly  would  I  accompany  them  through  all  the 
intricate  windings  and  vicisitudes  peculiar  to  their 
mortal  state.  With  what  ineffable  delight  would  I 
ward  off  the  blows  directed  by  the  unwearied  ene- 
my of  man,  or  the  machinations  of  his  mortal  auxili- 
aries !  But  this  is  impossible.  All  I  can  give  is  my 
benedictions,  flowing  from  a  heart  bursting  witn 
anxiety  ;  and  sending  up  ejaculations  to  the  Eternal, 
for  their  prosperity  and  preservation. 

But,  to  return  to  my  fair  readers.     The  object  of 

your  pursuits,  on  commencing  actors  on  the  stage 

of  life,  will,  no  doubt,  be  happiness.     This  we  as 

naturally  pursue  as  we  do  food  when  hungry,  drink 

A  2 


22S  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

when  dry,  rest  when  fatigued,  and  consolation  when 
transfixed  with  sorrow.  But,  alas  !  the  reason  why 
so  many  millions  of  Adam's  descendants  miss  the 
liappiness  they  by  native  instinct  de^^ire;  and,  in  its 
place,  nurture  the  most  formidable  evils,  which  pro- 
duce their  present  infelicity  and  eternal  misery; 
is,  first  they  miss  the  ri^ht  road  to  happiness;  se- 
condly, they  want  procaution,  and  rush  too  pre- 
cipitately into  the  busy  scenes  of  the  fashionable 
world.  As  moral  agents,  as  intelligent,  account- 
able beings,  the  Eternal  enjoins,  as  our  reason- 
able service,  that  we  look  to  him  for  direction; 
and  serve  him  with  affection  ;  not  only  in  our  pur- 
suits, but  even  by  oar  intentions  previous  to  our 
commencing  t)iese  pursuits  ;  ''/or  the?n  that  honor 
me  (says  the  piophet,  personating  the  Almighty)  / 
will  ho  nor  ^  and  they  that  desjnse  7ne  shall  be  light- 
ly esteemed  ;  and  how  can  we  despise  God  more  than 
entering  upon  the  all-important  business,  on  the 
event  of  which  our  future  destiny  hangs,  not  only 
in  this  world,  bat  in  that  which  is  to  come,  with- 
out ever  praying  for  his  benediction,  or  soliciting 
his  advice.  The  admonition  given  b}'^  David  to  his 
L.on,  on  his  entering  the  theatre  of  life,  is  full  of 
meaning;  and  should  he  perused  by  every  young 
person,  with  the  most  filial  solicitude,  ''  Jlnd  thou^ 
Solomon  ray  son^  know  thou  the  God  oj  thy  fa- 
ther, and  serve  him  zvith  a  perfect  hearty  and 
vnlh  a  ivilling  m^nd :  for  the  Lord  searcheth  all 
heartSy  and  under btandeth  nil  the  imaginations 
of , the  thoughts:  if  thou  seek  hirn^  he  will  be 
found  of  thee  ;  but  if  thou  forsake  Mm,  he  will 
cast  thee  off  for  ever^  To.  precipitate  into  the 
bnsy  scenes  of  life  unthoughtful  and  regardless  of 
the  event,  (which  is  too  often  the  case  with  young 
people),  is  not  only  irrciigious,  but  also  irrational. 

The  animal  creation,  by  natural  instinct,  pursues 
the  path  by  which  their  natures  will  be  gratified^ 
^vhicli  I  had  an  opportunity  of  ascertaining./  0,n^ 


VINDICATED.  22^4 

day,as'l  was  takina  a  solitary  walk  on  the  margin 
of  a  mie;hty  forest,  near  the  river  Amazon,  in  South 
America,  surveying  the  rural  wild,  and  romantic 
beauties  thereof,  \  saw  an  a.;perture  in  the  sand, 
where  a  tiger  had  been  previously  digging  for  a 
nest  of  turtle's  eggs;  on  perceiving  it  I  turned  up 
the  sand,  took  up  an  egg,  and  opened  it  when  a 
small  turtle,  about  the  size  of  a  Spanish  dollar, 
made  its  appearance,  I  placed  it  gently  on  the 
sand  beach,  when  it  instantly  made  tow^ards  the  sea 
which  was  some  yards  off,  with  great  alacrity,  and 
precipitated  into  its  native  element  with  apparent 
exultation. 

In  this  manner  natural  instinct  teaches  the  irra- 
tional creation  to  pursue  that  unerring  path  which 
the  w^isdom  of  Providence  has  pointed  out.  They  all 
answer  the  law  of  their  natures  ;  and,  consequently, 
the  will  of  their  munificent  Creator :  but  we,  sure- 
ly, must  conclude,  that  the  laws  by  which  the  hu- 
man and  animal  creation  are  governed,  must  be  es- 
sentially different.  I  do  not  wish  by  any  means  to 
enter  into  a  metaphysical  disquisition,  or  scientific 
dq;finition,  of  the  dissimilarity  between  the  human 
and  brutal  creation,  as  that  would  be  deviating 
from  my  plan  ;  which  is,  to  introduce  my  proposi- 
tions in  the  most  obvious,  familiar,  and  friendly 
manner  ;  regardless  of  censure  or  praise.  But  at 
the  same  time,  it  will  be  necessary,  in  order  to  elu- 
cidate the  subject,  and  point  out  the  road  which 
leads  to  happiness,  to  investigate  the  character  of 
man,  analyze  his  capability  for  particpating  celes- 
tial, as  well  as  terrestrial  happiness.  His  mortal 
and  immortal  powers  should  also  be  developed,  in 
order  to  ascertain  his  capacity  for  enjoyment;  by^ 
which  the  unreasonableness  and  irrationality  of 
such  epicures  as  c^eek,  in  the  interdicted  revels  of 
sensuality,  unsullied  delight,  will  be  made  mani- 
fest For  instance,  the  enjoyment  of  the  brutal 
:'eation    is   exclusively   confined^- to  sense :    bui 


225  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

with  the  human,  the  pleasures  of  sense  are  the' 
most  diminutive  and  superficial  parts  of  their 
feelings:  their  composition  consists  partly  of  mat- 
ter and  partly  of  spirit  5  the  preponderating  in- 
fluence  and  superiority  is  unquestionably  confined 
to  the  latter.  The  first  is  corruptible;  the  latter  in- 
corruptible. The  combination  is  truly  a  mysteri- 
ous  phenomenon  of  animal  and  perishable  matter, 
connected  with  intellectual  and  moral  powers.  1 
would  ask,  was  not  tlie  circumstance  of  the  little 
turtle,  taking  a  direct  course  down  to  the  sea,  a  phe- 
Bomenon,  unaccountable  on  just  philosophical  prin- 
ciples. We  should  not,  therefore,  with  material- 
ists, doubt  the  unity  of  flesh  and  spirit,  because  we 
cannot  ascertain  the  utility  thereof  by  speculative 
reasoning,  and  philosophical  hypothesis.  It,  there* 
fore,  plainly  follows,  that  human  happiness  does 
not  consist  exclusively  in  the  pleasure  of  sense. 

As  we  are  partly  animal,  and  partly  spiritual  be- 
ings, we  uniformly  require  a  portion  of  natural  and 
preternatural  enjoyments,  Thus,  without  nutri* 
ment,  the  body  becomes  feeble  and  dies  :  and  with- 
out spiritual  food  the  soul  becomes  languid  :  the 
intellectual  principle  torpid;  and  piety  and  virtue, 
by  degrees,  expire. 

Is  not  the  soul  of  more  importance  than  the 
body?  The  one  is  the  same  as  the  shell  of  a  nut, 
and  the  other  as  the  kernel.  Are  not  the  enjoy- 
ments of  the  one,  admitting  they  were  without  in- 
terruption, (which  experience  proves  not  to  be  a 
fact,)  sensual,  transitory,  and  sordid,  while  those  of 
the  other  are  superlative,  transcendent,  and  dur- 
able? without  any  manner  of  doubt :  consequent- 
ly, if  our  premises  are  correct,  it  is  unreasonable  tc 
spend  all  our  golden  moments,  in  pursuing,  with 
avidity,  sublunary  and  superficial  delights,  while 
we  forego  the  pursuit  of  intellectual  and  celf^stial 
gratification.  It  is  a  melancholy  fact,  authentica- 
ted by  woeful  experience,  that  the  children  of  met 


VINDICATED.  ftm 

too  often  attend  entirely  to  the  solicitations  of  way- 
ward appetite,  whieh  tends  to  destroy  their  intel- 
lectual powers. 

The  experience  and  misfortunes  of  mankind,  as 
exhibited  in  protane  as  well  as  sacred  history, 
proves  that  sensual  gratifications,  though  enjoyed 
m  their  greatest  plenitude,  and,  with  the  most  pro- 
fuse abundance,  cannot  yield  a  moment^s  uninter 
rupted  happiness. 

The  epicure  who  strives  his  taste  to  please. 
May  feel  the  brate^s  d^llg-ht,  but  not  his  ease. 

because  the  brute  enjoys  the  gratification  which  the 
epicure  so  much  prizes  without  any  future  forebo- 
dings, or  present  upbraidings  of  conscience;  and, 
consequently,  with  the  most  pleasurable  feelings* 
But  this  is  far  from  being  the  case  with  the  epicure. 
We  will  wave  mentioning  the  calls  of  his  con- 
science, and  the  forebodings  of  eternity,  and  only 
hint  the  agonizing  reflection  that  often  recurs  to 
his  mind,  while  eating  his  animal  food :  to  wit,  that 
after  a  few  more  rising  and  setting  suns,  his  own 
body,  which  he  takes  so  much  pains  to  accommo- 
date, will,  m  its  turn,  become  the  prey  of  putrefac- 
tion and  greedy  worms. 

1  appeal  not  only  to  the  epicure  for  the  confirma- 
tion of  my  arguments,  but  to  the  debauchee,  who 
eagerly  dissipated  his  patrimonial  inheritence,  and 
conjugal  felicity;  to  the  victim  of  sensuality,  who 
sacrificed  his  health  ;  to  the  martyr  of  sordid  avar- 
ice, who  starved  himself  to  death  ;  to  the  votary  of 
fashion  who  perished  herself  to  death ;  to  the  slave 
of  ambition  and  pride  who  sacrificed  his  life  to  gra- 
tify his  vanity,  and  with  all  these  characters,  I 
might  appeal  to  an  Alexander,  a  Nebuchadnezzarj 
la  Xerxes,  a  Nero,  a  Cataline,  a  Cleopatra,  who 
would,  methinks,  were  it  possible,  arise  from  their 
graves  to  consolidate  my  arguments ;  but  I  may 


£27  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

save  myself   the  trouble,  as  their  histories  will 
speak  for  them.     Even  Ovid  tells  us, 

'*  All  thoug-lits  of  happiness  on  ecirth  are  vain/' 

I  humbly  hope  the  reader  will  excuse  my  ei- 
larging  so  much  on  this  part  of  the  subject;  my 
reasons  are,  first,  1  conceive  that  by  this  means 
alone,  I  can  inform  my  juvenile  reader^s  mind,  and 
reform  her  heart ;  by  reasoning  the  case  with  her, 
in  her  own  florid  language,  and  upon  her  own  de- 
sultory ground,  not  altogether  by  theological,  but 
reasonable  and  perspicuous  references.  If  I  saw  a 
man  going  in  a  road  which  led  directly  to  a  preci- 
pice, down  which,  if  he  fell,  he  would  be  dashed  to 
pieces :  if  he  really  thought  he  was  pursuing  the 
road  to  happiness,  should  it  not  be  my  first  and 
principal  olDject  to  endeavor  to  convince  that  man 
(in  the  style,  and  with  the  language  most  familiar 
and  agreeable  to  him)  that  the  road  he  was  in,  led 
to  inevitable  ruin,  and  not  to  real  happiness  ? — cer- 
tainly it  should.  If  I  succeeded,  by  the  most  judi- 
cious and  conclusive  arguments,  to  convince  him 
that  he  was  treading  the  interdicted  road  that  led 
to  present  and  future  misery ;  and  not  only  con- 
vinced his  understanding,  but  also  exhibited  to  the 
indiscriminate  inspection  of  his  mind's  eye  the  fa~ 
tal  precipice,  the  banks  of  which  seemed  to  be  car- 
petted  with  flowers,  interspersed  with  the  vernal 
products  of  spring  and  the  blushing  fruits  of  au- 
tumn, and  even  the  ambrosial  blossoms  of  paradise  ; 
but  alas !  because  I  was  an  ignoramus,  not  a  phi- 
losopher; a  savage,  not  a  sage  ;  a  peasant,  not  a  po- 
tentate ;  a  iaj^man,  not  a  reverend  man;  he  would 
not  be  influenced  hy  my  aguments,  or  led  from  the 
fatal  road  by  my  admonitions,  but  continued  to 
pursue  it  till  he  was  hurled  down  the  precipice 
with  the  velocity  of  lightening,  or  like  the  tremen- 


VINDICATED.  228 

vlous  rock  that  overhangs  the  ocean,  being  invaded 
by  the  impetuous  torrent,  is  rent  froni  its  hold,  and 
instantly  whirls  down,  thundering,  crashing,  and 
tumbling  into  the  foaming,  swelling  ocean,  and 
sinks  to  the  bottom. 

I  make  this  remark,  as  I  fear  some  of  my  fel- 
low travellers  to  the  tomb  will  not  attend  to  the 
force  of  my  arguments,  because  they  are  not  intro- 
duced under  the  patronage  of  some  honorable^  or 
right  reverend  fellow  worm ;  though  it  seems  al- 
most impossible  that  any  rational  being  can  be  so 
far  sunk  in  the  sink  of  Satanic  pride  and  gigantic 
vanity,  as  to  merit  this  animadversion.  Yet  it  is 
certain,  that  too  much  deference  is  paid,  and  adula- 
tion offered  at  the  shrine  of  pedantry  ;  as  well  as 
unbounded  plaudits,  fulsome  panegyric,  and  vocifer- 
ous huzzas  bestowed,  not  only  on  the  political,  but 
also  the  poetical  murderers  of  the  human  family. 

But  to  return  to  the  subject  of  our  investigation. 
We  allow,  that  the  great  Creator,  who  delights  to 
make  all  his  intelligent  and  animate  creatures  hap- 
py, as  far  as  their  diversified  natures  and  capacities 
will  admit,  wills,  that  the  pleasures  of  sense  should 
be  a  part,  though  a  very  small  part  indeed,of  the  en- 
joyment of  his  rational  creatures;  and  as  he  well 
knew  that  the  too  profuse  participation  of  earthly 
pleasures,  and  the  gratification  of  sense  when  carried 
to  an  extreme,  had  a  direct  tendency,  not  only  to 
subvert  his  sacred  law^s  of  order  and  concord,  but  also 
was  supremely  prejudicial  to  the  individuals  them- 
selves; he,  therefore,  in  his  infinite  wisdom  and 
goodness,  fixed  a  barrier,  to  preclude  the  introduc- 
tion ot  discord  and  dissipation  amongst  his  crea- 
tures:  the  boundaries  when  fixed  had  their  coun- 
terpart also  organized  or  annexed,  which  was,  that 
the  man  who  passed  the  limits  and  transgressed 
the  Eternal  mandate,  should  in  so  doino;," secure 
misery  to  himself,  and  relinquish  tranquility  <and 
felicity.  Here  I  would  particularly  observe,  that 
xio  gopd  thing  that  the  earth  does,  or  indeed  can 


^29  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

produce,  is  forbidden  man  to  enjoy  in  moderatioKU 
It  is  the  abuse^  and  not  the  use  of  good  things  of 
life  that  are  prohibited;  and  why?  I  answer,  be- 
cause God.  who  is  particularly  great  in  goodnesB 
and  good  in  greatness^  in  this  respect,  knows,  and 
every  intelligent  person  may  know  the  same,  that 
abundance  of  any  earthly  substance  only  tends  to 
cloy,  or  captivate,  and  infelicitate  the  possessor,  and 
destroy  his  relish  for  more  substantial  and  perma- 
nent delight;  even  nature  herself  corroborates  and 
consolidates  the  inqusitions  and  requisitions  of 
Heaven.  She  dictates  in  reason's  ear,  that  disgust, 
langour,  and  infelicity,  are  the  offspring  of  intern^ 
perance  :  that  one  hour  spent  in  paternal  and  con- 
gugal  enjoyments^  outweighs  years  spent  in  revel- 
ling and  debauchery  :  that  one  meal  of  wholesome 
and  nutrimental  food,  participated  with  content 
and  a  thankful  heart,  counterpoises  all  the  luxuri- 
ous dainties  of  the  voluptuous  and  dissipated. 

I  feel  more  solicitude  for  the  welfare  of  my  fair 
readers,  as  I  am  convinced  that  the  preponderating 
bias  of  the  unexperienced  mind,  will  be  for  sally- 
ing forth  into  the  very  road  which  I  endeavor  to 
invalidate,  when  they  are  delivered  from  the  mana- 
cles of  maternal  restraint,  if  they  have  not  begun 
to  travel  that  delecterious  road  already  How  sel- 
dom do  they  consider  the  astonishing  ingenuity 
displayed  in  the  formation  of  their  mortal  bodies 
and  immortal  minds:  and  thai  they  ^x^  ^'fearfully 
and  wonderfully  made?'*  The  delicacy  and  in- 
tricate  windings  of  the  arteries  and  sinews,  the 
regularity  with  which  ever}^  part  of  this  astonish- 
ing system  performs  its  function,  are  truly  admi- 
rable. The  wisdom  manifested  in  the  formation 
of  the  most  diminutive  quadruped,  or  reptile,  and 
even  the  least  insect  that  breaths  the  vital  air,  is 
sufficient  to  excite  the  reverential  astonishment 
and  humble  adoration  of  a  savage.  But,  alas  !  how 
few,  while  they  admire  their  own  formation,  re^ 


VINDICATED.  ^>30 

fleet  on  the  delicacy  as  well  «as  the  ingenuity  of  it* 
How  easily  destroyed  by  precipitating  into  the 
abyss  of  sensuality  and  intemperate  gratification. 
And,  on  the  other  hand^  what  superlative  delight, 
and  transcendent  pleasure  it  is  capable  of  enjoying, 
by  being  obedient  to  the  requisitions  of  the  Crea- 
tor. I  had  almost  said,  that  a  faithful  and  grateful 
soul  is  capable  of  anticipating  theecstaciesof  anccels 
and  hearing  the  empyrean  symphony.  This  much 
I  will  positively  assert,  that  even  in  this  world, 
the  real  good  man,  who  maintains  his  integrity 
in  the  midst  of  accumulated  difficulty  and  compli- 
cated temptations,  though  mighry  sorrows  thicKen 
round  him,  and  clouds  and  darkness  rest  upon  his 
prospects;  every  thing  conspiring  to  discourage 
him  from  the  practice  of  virtue,  and  to  encourage 
him  in  the  practice  of  vice  ;  not  only  his  external, 
but  his  internal  enemies,  his  native  depravity  and 
hereditary  corruptions,  all  combining  to  entice  him 
from  the  paths  of  rectitude,  in  atidition  to  which 
the  iron  hand  of  despotism,  with  consequent  pover- 
ty and  chilling  disease,  assail  him;  thus,  although 
every  thing,  celestial  and  terres  rial,  seem  to  com- 
bine against  him;  yet,  notwithstanding  all  these 
discouragements,  his  in'egrity  is  untarnished  ;  his 
faith  is  unadulterated,  and  the  love  he  feels  for  his 
Creator  unsullied :  I  say,  such  a  character  brings 
more  glory  to  God  th<^n  a  legion  of  angels.  But 
the  philosophical  unbeliever  may  ask,  what  are 
angels?  I  answer,  created  intelligenctrs  who  are 
in  their  primeval  state  of  paradisiacal  purity;  their 
faith  lost  in  sight;  their  hope  in  full  fruition.  What 
are  men?  they  are  also  created  beings,  placed  in  a 
state  of  probation  and  trial,  short  indeed,  and  ran- 
sitory,  prior  to  their  introduction  into  the  conp^ny 
of  superior  beings.  But  the  question  i-,  l)ow  are 
these  divine  enjoyments  to  be  attained  ?  I  answr, 
merely  by  asking  for  them.    ^'./^.9/i,''  says  the  dear 


231  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Redeemer,  "ancf  it  shall  be  given  unto  you;  seek 
and  ye  ^hall  f.nd ;  knock^  and  it  shall  be  opened 
unto  youP  Thus,  while  others  are  sacrificing 
their  lives,  fortunes,  and  tranquility  in  the  pursuit 
of  imaginary  happiness,  you  may  find  real  happi- 
ness on  the  most  easy  terms.  How  invincible  is 
the  passion  of  love,  between  parents  and  children, 
as  well  as  between  the  sexes:  and  how  much  more 
invincible  is  the  love  of  God  for  his  creatures ! 
Your  earthly  parents  are  not  so  near,  and  ouo;ht  not 
to  be  so  dear  to  you  as  your  heavenly  Parent. 
They  are  but  the  secondary  cause  of  your  existence; 
he  is  the  first.  When  I  seethe  ^^  heaven  erected 
face^^  of  a  beautiful  woman  bedaubed  with  paint, 
and  depicted  with  affected  airs,  and  detestable 
pride^  I  blush  for  the  honor  of  human  nature.  Can 
any  thing  be  more  unreasonable  and  degrading, 
than  for  such  amiable,  such  fascinating  beings  thus 
to p7*ostitute  their  intellectual  powers  to  such  un- 
worthy purposes.  Perhaps  your  soul  recoils  at 
the  degenerate  exhibition  of  such  a  vain  and  florid 
fem&le :  but  remember  that  there  is  but  a  little 
space  between  the  paths  of  innocent  and  guilty 
indulgence;  and  when  that  boundary  is  passed,  the 
vortex  of  sensuality  appears  in  view,  to  whirl  you 
down  the  labyrinth  of  popular  degeneracy  and 
degradation ;  where  you  may  with  apparent,  but 
not  real  pleasure,  pursue  the  same  vile,  and  vulgar, 
or  at  least  vain  routine  of  splendid  wretchedness, 
and  magnificent  folly,  without  tasting  a  particle  of 
intellectual  pleasure,  till  death  meets  you  in  the 
mad  career  ;  presen^ts  the  unwelcome  summons  for 
you  to  leave  all  your  grandeur  behind  :  your  body, 
which  you  have  worshipped  more  than  God,  will 
be  deposited  in  the  silent  grave,  while  the  wretched 
soul,  so  long  neglected,  must  account  to  that  God 
for  the  follies  of  an  ill  spent  life.  How  unwillingly 
the  soul  will  leave  the  body  on  this  awful  occasion, 
is  beautifully  described  by  Blair. 


VINDICATED; 

"How  shocking  must  thy  summon  be,  O  death! 
To  him  that  is  at  ease  in  his  possessions: 
AYho,  counting  on  long  years-  of  pleasure  here, 
Is  quite  unfurnished  for  that  world  to  come  ! 
In  that  dread  moment,  how  tlie  frantic  soul 
Raves  round  the  walls  of  her  clay  tenement. 
Runs  to  each  avenue,  and  shrieks  for  help. 
But  shrieks  in  vain  ! — How  wistfully  she  looks 
On  all  she's  leaving,  now  no  longer  her's  ! 
A  little  longer,  yet  a  little  longer, 
O  !  might  she  stay,  to  wash  away  her  stains. 
And  fit  her  for  her  passage.     Mournful  sight ! 
Her  very  eyes  weep  blooo  ;  and  every  groan 
She  heaves  is  big  with  horror.    But  the  foe. 
Like  a  staunch  murd'rer,  steady  to  his  purpose. 
Pursues  her  close  through  every  lane  of  life. 
Nor  misses  once  the  track,  but  presses  on  ; 
Till  forcM  at  last  to  the  tremendous  verge, 
At  once  she  sinks  to  everlasting  ruin. 

**  Sure  'lis  a  serious  thing  to  die/  My  soul. 
What  a  strange  moment  must  it  be,  when  near 
Thy  journey's  end,  thou  hast  the  gulph  in  view  I 
That  awful  gulph,  no  mortal  e'er  repass 'd 
To  tell  what's  doing  on  the  other  side  ! 
Nature  runs  back,  and  shudders  at  the  sight, 
And  every  life-string  bleeds  at  thoughts  of  parting; 
For  part  they  must:  bodi/  and  soul  must  part ; 
Fond  couple ;  link'd  more  close  than  wedded  pair 
This  wings  its  way  to  its  Almighty  source. 
The  witness  of  its  actions,  now  its  judge  ; 
That  drops  into  the  dark  and  noisome  g'-avsp  ■. 
Like  a  disabled  pitcher  of  no  usev 


233  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

*'  IC death  was  nothing,  and  nought  after  death. 
If,  when  men  died,  at  once  they  ceas'd  to  be, 
Returning  to  the  barren  womb  of  nothing, 
Whence  first  they  sprung,  thea  might  the  debauchee 
Untrembiing  mouth  the   heavens:— -Then    might  the 

drunkard 
Reel  over  his  full  bowl,  and,  when  His  drain'd. 
Pill  up  another  to  the  brim  and  laugh 
At  the  poor  bugbear  death:  Then  might  the  wretch 
That's  weary  of  the  world,  and  tir'd  of  life, 
At  once  give  each  inquietude  the  slip, 
By  stealing  out  of  being  when  he  pleas'd. 
And  by  what  way,  whether  by  hemp  or  steel, 
Death^s  thousand  doors  stand  open.     Who  could  force 
The  ill-pleasM  guest  to  sit  out  his  full  time, 
Or  blame  him  if  he  goes.    Sure  he  does  well^ 
That  helps  himself  as  timely  as  he  can. 
When  able.     But  if  there  is  a  hereafter. 
And  that  there  is,  conscience,  uninfluencM, 
And  suffered  to  speak  out  tells  every  man  ; 
Then  must  it  be  an  awful  thing  to  die- 
Mot^  horrid  yet  to  die  by  one's  own  hand. 
Self  murder!  name  it  not;  our  island's  shame. 
That  makes  her  the  reproach  of  neighboring  stated 
Shall  nature,  swerving  from  her  earliest  dictate.. 
Self-preservation,  fall  by  her  own  act.? 
Forbid  it,  heaven  '.—Let  not,  upon  disjust. 
The  shameless  hand  be  fully  crimson'd  o'er 
With  blood  of  Us  own  lord.    Dreadful  attempt* 
Just  reeking  from  self-slaughter,  in  a  rage 
To  rush  into  the  presence  of  our  Judge; 
As  if  we  challeng'd  him  to  do  his  worst. 
And  matter'd  not  his  wrath.     Unheard-of  torture 
Muiit  be  rescrv'd  for  such:  these  herd  together  ? 


•vindicated:  ,334 

The  common  damn'd  shua  their  society, 

Hnd  look  upon  themselves  as  fiends  less  foul. 

Our  time  is  fix'd,  and  all  our  days  are  number'd; 

How  long",  how  short,  we  know  not ; — This  we  know 

Duly  requires  we  calmly  wait  the  summons,- 

Nor  dare  to  stir  till  heaven  shall  give  permission: 

Like  sentries  that  must  keep  their  destin'd  stand. 

And  wait  th'  appointed  hour,  till  they're  reliev'd, 

Those  only  are  the  brave  that  keep  their  ground. 

And  keep  it  to  the  last.     To  run  away 

Is  but  a  coward's  trick.-  to  run  away 

From  this  world's  ills,  that  at  the  very  worst 

Will  soon  blow  o'er,  thinking  to  mend  ourselves 

By  boldly  vent'ring  on  a  world  unknown. 

And  plunging  headlong  in  the  dark; — 'tis  mad; 

No  phrenzy  half  so  desperate  as  this. 

^*Tell  us,  ye  dead;  will  none  of  you  in  pity 
To  those  you  left  behind, disclose  the  secret? 
Oh  !  that  some  courteous  ghost  would  blab  it  out; 
What  'tis  you  are,  and  ive  must  shortly  be. 
Tve  heard  that  souls  departed,  have  sometimes 
Forewarn'd  men  of  their  death; — 'Twas  kindly  done, 
To  knock  and  give  the  alarm.     But  what  means 
This  stinted  charity.? — 'Tis  but  lame  kindness 
That  does  its  work  by  halves.     Why  might  you  not  4. 

Tell  us  what  'tis  to  die? — Do  the  strict  laws 
Of  your  society  forbid  your  speaking 
Upon  a  point  so  nice  ? — I'll  ask  no  more; 
Sullen,  like  lamps  in  sepulchres,  your  shine 
Enlightens  but  yourselves.     Well— 'tis  no  matter, 
A  very  little  time  will  clear  up  all. 
And  make  us  learn'd  as  you  are,  and  as  close. 

^^Decth'a  shafts  fly  thick.-  Here  falls  the  village  swaiD, 
And  there  his  pamper'd  lord.    The  cup  goes  round; 

35  £ 


335  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

And  who  so  artful  as  to  put  it  by  ? 

*Tis  long  since  death  had  the  majority. 

Yet  strange  !  the  living  lay  itjiot  to  heart. 

See  yonder  maker  of  the  dead  man's  bed, 

The  6<?jrron,  hoary  headed  chronicle, 

of  hard  unmeaning  face,  down  which  ne'er  stole 

A  gentle  tear,  with  mattock  in  his  hand 

Digs  through  the  whole  rows  of  kindred  andacquaintantt? 

By  far  his  juniors.     Scarce  a  scull's  east  up, 

But  well  he  knew  his  owner,  and  can  tell 

Some  passage  of  his  life.     Thus  hand  in  hand. 

The  sot  has  walk'd  with  death  twice  twenty  years: 

And  yet  ne'er  yonder  on  the  green  laughs  !ouder. 

Or  clubs  a  smuttier  tale.-  When  drunkards  meet; 

None  sings  a  merrier  catch,  or  lends  a  hand 

More  willing  to  his  cup.     Poor  wretch  I  he  minds  not- 

That  soon  some  trusty  brother  of  the  trade 

Shall  do  for  him  what  he  has^  done  for  thousands. 

•*  On  this  side,  and  on  that,  men  see  their  friends 
Drop  off,  like  leaves  in  autumn;  yet  launch  out 
Into  fantastic  schemes  which  the  long  livers 
In  the  world's  hale  and  undegen'rate  days 
Could  scarce  have  leisure  for.     Fools  that  we  are. 
Never  to  think  o^  death  and  of  ourtelves 
At  the  same  time:  as  if  to  learn  to  die 
^    Were  no  concern  of  ours.    Oh!  more  than  sottish, 
For  creatures  of  a  day,  in  gamesome  mood. 
To  Frolic  on  eternity's  dread  brink, 
Unapprehensive;  when  for  ought  we  know. 
The  very  first  swoln  surge  shall  sweep  us  in. 
Think  we,  or  think  we  not,  time  hurries  on 
With  a  resistless  unremitting  stream  ; 
Yet  treads  more  soft  th^n  e'er  did  midnight  thiel\ 
That  slides  his  hand  under  the  miser's  pillow. 
And  carries  off  his  prize.     What  is  this  tvorhi:^ 
What  but  a  spacicas  bzirial field  nnwall'd. 


VINDICATED.  236 

Strew'd  with  death's  spoils,  the  spoils  of  animals^ 

Savage  and  tame,  and  full  of  dead  men's  bones. 

The  very  turf  on  which  we  tread  once  liv*d  •, 

And  we  that  live  must  lend  our  carcasses 

To  cover  our  own  offspring:  in  their  turns 

They  too  must  cover  their's.     Tis  here  all  meet.- 

The  shiv'ring  Icelander,  and  sunburnt  Moore^ 

Men  of  all  crimes,  that  never  met  before; 

And  of  all  creeds,  the  Jeio  the  Turk  the  Christian^ 

Here  the  proud  prince,  and  favourite  yet  prouder, 

His  sovereign's  keeper,  and  the  people's  scourge, 

Are  huddled  out  of  sight.     Here  lie  acash'd. 

The  great  7ieg9tiators  of  the  earth. 

And  celebrated  masters  of  the  balance. 

Deep  read  in  stratagems,  and  wiles  of  courts. 

Now  vain  their  treaty  skill.     Death  scorns  to  treat. 

Here  the  overloaded  slave  flings  down  his  burden 

From  his  gall'd  shoulders;  and  when  the  stern  tyrant 

Wiih  all  his  guards  and  tools  of  power  about  him. 

In  meditating  new  unheard-of  hardships, 

Mocks  his  short  arm; — and  quich  as  thought  escapcE 

"Where  tyrants  vex  not,  and  the  weary  rest. 

Her^e  the  warm  lover,  leaving  the  cool  shade. 

The  tell-tale  echo  and  the  babbling  stream 

(Time  out  of  mind  the  fav'rite  seats  of  love) 

Fast  by  his  gentle  mistress  lays  him  down, 

Unblasted  by  foul  tongue,     ^^re  friends  and  foes 

Lie  close;  unmindful  of  their  former  feuds. 

The  lawn  Yoh*d  prelate^  and  plain  j5>7'e«%^er. 

Ere  while  that  stood  aloof,  as  shy  to  meet. 

Familiar  mingle  here,  like  sister  streams 

That  some  rude  interposing  rock  has  split. 

Here  is  the  large  limb'd  peasant; — Here  the  cJdld 

Of  a  span  long,,  that  never  saw  the  sun, 

Nor  press'd  the  nipple,  strangled  in  life's  porcho 

Hcve  ia  the  mother^  with  her  sons  and  daughters  ^ 


*3T  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

The  barren  w//^'and  long-demurring  viaidt 

Whose  lonely,  iinappropnated  svvt-ets 

Smil'd  like  yon  knot  of  cowslips  on  the  cliff, 

Not  to  be  conf)e  at  by  the  willing  hand. 

J/ere  are  Xhe  prude  severe,  and  gay  coquette^ 

Tije  sober  -widows  and  the  young  green  virgin^ 

Cropped  like  a  rose  before  'tis  fully  blown, 

Or  half  its  worth  dibclosM.     Strange  medley  her^: 

Here  garrulous  o/t/age  winds  up  his  tale  ; 

And  jovial  youth  of  lightsome  vacant  heart, 

Whose  ev'ry  day  was  made  of  melody, 

Hears  not  the  voice  of  mirth.     The  shrill-tongu'd  shretv. 

Meek  as  the  turtle-dove,  forgets  her  chiding. 

Here  are  the  wise,  the  generous,  and  the  brave  ; 

The  just,  the  good,  the  worthless,  and  profane. 

The  downright  clown,  and  perfectly  well  bred  ; 

The  fool,  the  churl,  the  scoundrel,  and  the  mean,^ 

The  supple  statesman  and  the  patriot  stern  ; 

The  wrecks  of  nations  and  the  spoils  of  time; 

With  all  the  lumbe?  of  six  thousand  years. 

Poor  man!  how  happy  once  in  Xhy  Jirst  state  J 

When  yet  but  warm  from  thy  Great  Maker's  hand, 

He  stamped  thee  with  his  image,  and,  well  pleas'd, 

3mil'd  on  his  last  fair  work.     Then  all  was  well. 

Sound  was  the  bodyt  and  the  soid  serene  ; 

Like  two  sweet  instruments,  ne'er  out  of  tune, 

That  play  their  several  parts.     Nor  head,  nor  heart, 

Offer'd  to  ache  :  nor  was  there  cause  they  should  ; 

For  all  was  pure  within  :  no  fell  remorse. 

Nor  anxious  castings  up  of  what  might  be, 

Alarm'd  his  peaceful  bosom.     Summer  seas 

Shew  not  more  smooth,  when  kiss'd  by  southern  wind:3 

Just  ready  to  expire  —Scarce  importuned. 

The  generous  soil,  with  a  luxurious  hand, 

Offer'd  the  various  produce  of  the  year. 


\^INDICATED.  ^38 

And  ev'ry  thing  most  perfect  in  iis  kind. 
Blessed  !  thrice  blessed  days  !— But,  ah!  how  short  t 
Bless'd  as  the  pleasing  dreams  of  holy  men, 
Bat  fugitive  like  those,  and  quickly  gone. 
Oh  !  slipp'ry  state  of  things  !—what  sudden  turns* 
What  strange  vicissitudes  in  the  first  leaf 
Ofinan's  sad  history  ! — To-day  most  happy. 
And  ere  to-morrow's  sun  has  set,  most  abject. 
How  scant  the  space  between  these  vast  extremes  I 
Thus  far'd  it  with  our  sire  .—Not  long  enjoy*d 
His  paradise.     Scarce  had  the  happy  tenant 
Of  the  fair  spot,  due  time  to  prove  its  sweets. 
Or  sum  them  up,  when  straight  he  must  begone, 
Ne'er  to  return  again.     And  must  he  go  ? 
Can  nought  compound  for  the  first  dire  oflTencc 
Of  erring  man  .?  Like  one  that  is  condemn'd. 
Fain  would  he  trifle  time  with  idle  talk, 
And  parley  with  his  fate  ;  but  'tis  in  vain, 
Xot  all  the  lavish  odours  of  the  place, 
Offer'd  in  incense,  can  procure  his  pardon, 
Or  mitigate  his  doom— a  mighty  angel. 
With  flaming  sword,  forbibs  his  longer  stay, 
And  drives  the  loiterer  forth;  nor  must  he  take 
One  last  farewell  round.     At  once  he  lost 
His  glory  and  his  God.     If  mortal  now, 
And  sorely  maim'd  no  wander — man  has  sinned. 
Sick  of  his  bliss,  and  bent  on  new  adventures. 
Evil  he  would  needs  try ; — nor  tried  in  vain, 
(Dreadful  experiment !  destructive  measure  ! 
Where  the  worst  thing  could  happen,  is  success,) 
Alas  !  too  well  he  speed:— the ^-oocf  he  scorn'd 
Stalk'd  of  reluctant  like  an  ill  us'd  ghost, 
Not  to  return  i— or  if  it  did,  its  visits, 


239  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Like  those  of  angels,  short,  and  far  between  .• 

Whilst  the  black  demon  with  his  hell-scap*d  train^ 

Admitted  once  into  its  better  room, 

Grew  loud  and  mutinous,  nor  would  begone  ; 

Lording  it  o*er  the  man  ;  who  now  too  late 

Saw  the  rash  error  which  he  could  not  mend  • 

An  error,  fatal  not  to  him  alone, 

But  to  his  future  sons,  his  fortunes  heirs. 

Inglorious  bondage ! — Human  nature  groans 

Beneath  a  vassalage  so  vile  and  cruel, 

And  its  vast  body  bleeds  through  every  vein, 

"  What  havoc  hast  thou  made,  foul  monster,  un 
Greatest  and  first  of  illg— the  fruitful  parent 
Of  woes  of  all  dimensions  !— But  for  thee 
Sorrow  had  never  been  !  All  noxious  thing. 
Of  the  vilest  nature,  other  sorts  of  evils 
Are  kindly  circumscrib'd;  and  have  their  bounds, 
The  fierce  volcano,  from  its  burning  entrails, 
That  belches  molten  stone,  and  globes  of  fire  ; 
Involv'd  in' pitchy  clouds  of  smoke  and  stench. 
Mars  the  adjacent  fields  for  some  leagues  round, 
And  there  it  stops,      rhe  big  swoln  ifiundation. 
Of  mischief  more  diffusive,  raving  loud. 
Buries  whole  tracts  of  country,  threatening  more  : 
But  that,  too,  has  its  shore  it  cannot  pass. 
More  dreadful  far  than  these  !  Sin  has  laid  waste, 
T^ot  here  and  there  a  country  but  a  tiforld  ; 
Dispatching  at  a  wide  extended  blow 
Entire  mankind  ;  and  for  their  sakes  defacing 
A  whole  creation's  beauty  with  rude  hands  ; 
Blasting  the  foodful  gain,  and  loaded  branches, 
And  marking  all  along  its  way  with  ruin. 
Accursed  thing  ! — Oh  !  where  shall  fancy  find 
A  proper  name  to  call  thee  by,  expressive 
Of  all  thy  horrors  ?— Pregnant  womb  of  ills  * 


VINDICATED,  MQ 

}f  temper  so  transcendently  malign, 

I  hat  toads  and  serpents  of  most  deadly  k'lndj 

ComparM  to  thee,  are  harmless — sicknesses  . 

Of  every  size  and  symptom,,  racking"  pains 

And  bluest  plagues  are  thine.     See  now  the  fiend 

Profusely  scatters  the  contagion  round  ! 

Whilst  deep  mouth'd  slaughter,  bellowing  at  her  heels, 

Wades  deep  in  blood  new  spilt;  yet  for  to-morrow 

Shapes  out  new  work  of  great  uncommon  daring, 

\nd  inly  pines  till  the  dread  blow  is  struck. 

^*  But  hold  ; — i*ve  gone  too  far:  too  much  discover*d 
My  father's  nakedness,  and  nature's  shame. 
Here  let  me  pause  and  drop  an  honest  tear. 
One  burst  of  filial  duty  and  condolence. 
O'er  all  those  ample  deserts  fleath  hath  spread. 
This  chaos  of  mankind.     O,  great  man-eater  / 
Whose  every  day  is  carnival,  not  sated  yet ! 
Unheard  of  epicure  /  without  a  fellow  ! 
The  veriest  gluttons  do  not  always  cram  , 
Some  intervals  of  abstinence  are  sought 
To  edge  the  appetite  ;  thou  seekest  none. 
Methinks  the  countless  swarms  thou  hast  dcvour'd, 

nd  thousands  that  each  hour  thou  gobblest  up. 
This,  less  than  this,  might  gorge  thee  to  the  full, 
Butj  ah  !  rapacious  still,  thou  gap'est  for  more; 
Like  one  whole  days  defrauded  of  his  meals. 
On  whom  lank  hunger  lays  her  skinny  hand, 
And  w^ets  to  keenest  eagerness  his  cravings, 
As  if  diseases,  massacre,  and  poison. 
Famine  and  war,  were  not  thy  caterers. 

**  Dut,  know  that  thou  must  render  up  the  dead. 
And  with  high  interest  too.     They  are  not  thine  ; 
But  only  in  thy  keeping  for  a  reason. 
Till  the  great  promis'd  day  of  restitution. 
When  loud  diffusive  sound  from  brazen  trump. 


241  FEMALE  CHARACTEE 

Of  strong"  lung'd  cherub,  sliall  alarm  thy  captives, 
And  rouse  the  long-,  long  sleepers  Into  life, 

Day-light  and  liberty. — 

Then  must  thy  doors  fly  opeOj  and  reveal 

The  minds  that  lay  long  forming'  under  ground, 

\x\  their  dark  cells  immur'd  ;  but  now  full  ripe, 

And  pure  as  silver  from  the  crucible. 

That  twice  has  stood  the  torture  of  the  fire. 

And  inquisition  of  the  forge.     We  know 

Th*  illustrious  deliverer  of  mankind, 

The  son  of  God,  thee  foil'd.     Him  in  thy  pow'r 

Thou  couldest  not  hold : — Self-vigorous  he  rose, 

And  shaking  off  thy  fetters,  soon  retook 

Those  spoils  his  voluntary  yielding  lent ; 

(Sure  pledge  of  our  releasement  from  thy  thrall!) 

Twice  twenty  days  he  sojourn'd  here  on  earth, 

And  show'd  himself  alive  to  chosen  rvitiiesses, 

Bv  proofs  so  strong,  that  the  most  slcvw  assenting 

Had  not  a  scruple  left.     This  having  done, 

lie  mounted  up  to  Heaven.     Metliinks  1  see  him 

Climb  the  aerial  iiights,  and  glide  along 

Athwart  the  severing  clouds  :  but  the  faint  eye, 

Flung  backwards  in  the  chase,  soon  drops  its  hold , 

Disabled  quite,  and  jaded  with  pursuing. 

Heaven's  portals  wide  expand  to  let  him  in  ; 

Nor  are  bis  friends  shut  out:  as  a  great  prince. 

Not  for  himself  alone  procures  admission. 

But  for  his  train.     It  was  his  royal  will. 

That  where  he  is,  there  should  his  followers  be. 

Death  only  lies  between.     A  gloomy  path ! 

Made  yet  more  gloomy  by  our  coward  fears  j 

But  not  untrod,  nor  tedious  :  the  fugitive 

Will  soon  go  off.     Besides  there's  no  by-road 

To  bliss.     Then  why,  like  ill-condition*d  childreij. 


VliNDICATEB.  242 

Start  we  at  transient  hardships  in  the  way 

That  leads  to  purer  air,  and  softier  skies, 

And  a  ne'er  setting  sun  ! — Fools  that  vve  are  ! 

We  wish  to  be  where  sweets  unwither'ing  bloom  r. 

But  straight  our  wish  revoke,  and  will  not  go. 

So  have  I  seen,  upon  a  summer's  ev'n, 

Fast  by  the  riv'lets  brink,  a  youngster  plj^^  : 

How  wishfully  he  looks  to  stem  the  tide  ! 

This  moment  resolute,  next  unresolv'd  : 

At  last  he  dips  his  foot ;  but  as  he  dips. 

His  fears  redouble,  and  he  runs  away 

From  th*  inoifensive  stream,  unmindful  now 

Of  all  the  flowers  that  paint  the  further  bank, 

And  smil'd  so  sweet  of  late.     Thrice  welcome  death:, 

That  after  many  a  painful  bleeding  step 

Conducts  us  to  our  home,  and  lands  us  safe 

On  the  long  wish'd  for  shore.     Prodigious  change! 

'Our  bane  turn'd  to  a  blessing  !  death  disarm*d. 

Loses  his  fellness  quite.     All  thanks  to  him 

Who  scourg'd  the  venom  out.     Sure  the  last  end 

Of  the  good  man  in  peace!  How  calm  his  exit! 

Night  dews  fall  not  more  gently  to  the  ground. 

Nor  weary  worn  out  winds  expire  so  soft. 

Behold  him  in  the  evening  tide  of  life, 

A  life  well  spent,  wljose  early  care  it  was 

His  riper  years  should  not  upbraid  his  green : 

By  unperceiv'd  degrees  he  wears  away ; 

Yet,  like  the  sun,  seems  larger  at  his  setting. 

(High  in  his  faith  and  hopes)  look  how  he  reaches. 

After  the  prize  in  view  ?  and,  like  a  bird 

Whilst  the  glad  gates  of  sight  are  wide  expanded 

To  let  new  glories  in,  the  first  fair  fruits 

Of  the  fast  coming  harvest.     Then!  oh  then! 

Each  earth-born  joy  grows  vile  or  disappears. 

Shrunk  to  a  thing  of  nought.     Oh  !  how  he  longt 

To  have  his  passpoi*t  sign'd,  and  be  dismissed  ! 


•^f  >  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

' Tii  done,  and  now  he's  happy  !— the  glad  soul 

Has  not  a  wish  uncrown'd.     Ev'n  the  la^  flesh 

Meats  too  in  hope  of  meeting  once  again 

its  better  half,  never  to  sunder  more. 

Nor  shall  it  hope  in  vain  .-—The  time  draws  on, 

When  not  a  single  spot  of  burial  earth, 

Whether  on  laud,  or  in  the  spacious  sea. 

But  must  give  back  his  long  committed  dust 

Inviolate.— And  faithfully  sliall  these 

-Make  up  the  full  account :  not  the  least  atom 

RmbezzPd  or  mislaid,  of  the  whole  tale. 

Each  soul  shall  have  a  body  ready  furnisli*d 

And  each  shall  have  his  own.     Hence,  ye  profane 

As  not  how  can  this  be  ?— Sure  the  same  jDOw'r 

That  rear'd  the  piece  at  first,  and  took  it  down 

Can  re-assemble  the  loose  scatterM  parts. 

And  put  them  as  they  were.     Almighty  God 

lias  done  much  more,  nor  is  his  arm  impair'd 

Through  length  of  days  ;  and  what  he  can  he  will, 

His  faithfulness  stands  bound  to  see  it  done. 

When  the  dread  trumpet  sounds,  the  slumbering  dust, 

(Not  in  attentive  to  the  call)  shall  wake; 

And  evVy  joint  possets  its  proper  place, 

With  a  new  elegance  of  form  unknown 

To  its  first  state      Nor  shall  the  conscious  soul 

Mistake  its  partner,  but  amidst  the  crowd 

Singling  its  other  half,  into  its  arms 

Shall  rush  with  all  the  impatience  of  a  man 

That's  nevv  come  home,  and  having  long  been  absent 

With  haste  runs  over  ev'ry  difft^rent  room, 

In  pain  to  see  the  whole.     Thrice  happy  meetings  ' 

Nor  time  nor  death^\\^\\  ever  part  them  more. 

'Tis  but  a  night,  a  long  and  moonless  night ; 

We  make  W\& grave  our  bed,  and  then  are  gone. 

**  Thus  at  the  shut  of  ev'n.  the  weary  bird 
ireaves  the  wide  air,  and  in  same  lonely  brake 


VINDICATED.  244 

OowVs  down,  and  dozes  till  the  dawn  of  da)^ 
Then  claps  his  weil-fledgM  wings  and  bears  away.-' 

We  have  jast  witnessed  the  exit  of  the  vain  and 
volatile  votary  of  fashion  ;  we  will  now  take  our 
eyes  from  this  gloomy  picture  of  human  depravity 
and  wretchedness,  and  place  them  on  the  more  re- 
fulgent delineation  of  the  pursuits,  the  pleasures, 
and  the  end  of  the  votary  of  religion  and  virtue. 

We  have  already  said,  that  the  appetites  of  the 
body  are  soon  cloyed,  and  the  most  delicious  and 
luxurious  banquets  soon  become,  if  not  disgustful, 
at  least  common  and  insipid.  But  the  mind  can 
never  be  cloyed  with  the  plenitude  of  intellectual 
gratification, Which  the  charming  female  proves  to 
be  the  case,  who  turns  a  deaf  ear  to  the  syren's 
song,  despises  the  harmonious  hypocrite,  and  re- 
linquishes all  the  illicit,  the  vile,  the  fashionable 
follies  of  the  age  ;  nay,  all  the  vain  things  that 
charms  her  most,  she  sacrifices  them  for  the  ardent 
love  she  cherishes  for  her  Almighty  Parent.  Her 
love  augments  with  her  years,  and  her  divine  en- 
joyments, still  increase,  with  all  the  luxuriancy  of 
Inental  delight:  yet  she  is  so  t^r  iVoni  being  siu'- 
feited  with  their  accumulation,  tliat  she  still  pant  > 
for  more  of  those  holy,  hcavenhs  happy  pleasures: 
Her  listening  to  the  commands  of  her  gracious  Pa- 
rent, with  her  intellectual  ear,  or  viewing  the  glo- 
ries of  his  kingdom,  or  the  superlative  beauties  of 
his  person  wMth  her  intellectual  eye,  does  not  pre- 
dude  her  from  viewing,  with  admiration  and  vene- 
ration, the  handy  works  of  the  Architect  of  nature; 
the  flowery  gardens,  the  vernal  groves,  the  scented 
meadows,  the  fragrant  woods,  the  chrystal  stream?, 
the  terraqueous  globe  itself  teeming  with  abun- 
dance for  man  and  beast;  the  firmament  sprinkled 
with  golden  planets,  all  either  interspersed  with 
numerous  worlds  and  irradiated  with  innumerable 
comets    and   constellaiions-;    the  whole  universe 


245  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

pregnant  with  life  ;  all  these  ihings  she  views  with 
the  most  reverential  devotion  and  sentimental  de- 
light :  hut  her  views  are  not  confined  to  visible  ob- 
jects. She  enters  the  intellectual  world  majesti- 
cally bold.  She  views  with  one  comprehensive 
glance  of  her  rnind's  eye,  dominions^  thrones^  prin- 
cipalities^ virtues  and  powers,  arranged  in  imperi- 
al order  :  with  starry  hosts,  and  myriads  of  smiling 
cherubs  ;  and  hears  the  m.elodious  lays  of  the  celes- 
tial world  ;  and  tho'.*vgh  it  is  through  a  glass  darkly^ 
yet  she  sees  the  eternal  great  First  Cause  shroud- 
ed ^vith  refulgent  and  inaccessible  glory,  from 
whose  sacred  presence,  streams  of  light,  life,  and 
love,  incessantly  distil,  and  enrapture  the  heaven- 
ly hosts,  who  continually  see  more  of  his  munifi- 
cence developed,  and  more  of  his  clemency  exer- 
cised over  all  his  creatures,  celestial  and  terrestrial,,^ 
at  whose  liead  ho  sits  majestically  glorious,  holds 
the  helm  of  aflairs,  keeps  in  motion  the  machinery 
of  the  universe,  and  looks  from  high  arch  with  in- 
dignation upon  that  pitiful,  that  sordid,  that  volup- 
tuous wretch,  in  his  sp'endid  mansion,  who,  for  the 
sake  of  indulging  his  appetite,  sacrifices  the  intel- 
lectual pleasures  peculiar  to  the  first  born  sons  of 
heaven  ;  while,  with  the  same  glance  he  descries, 
under  the  embowering  shade  of  the  lofty  oak,  and 
at  the  door  of  his  rustic  hovel,  the  unlettered  sav- 
age, surveying  with  admiration  the  rude  scenery 
and  romantic  beauties  of  the  forest,  the  transparen-^ 
cy  of  heaven's  blue  arch,  the  velocity  of  the  vivid' 
lightning,  and  listening  to  the  distant  bellowing  of 
llie  rolling  thunder  :  while  with  reverential  a"we  he 
renders  his  Creator  the  grateful  offering  of  untutor- 
ed homage. 

All  these  pleasures,  and  more  than  tongue  can 
axpress,  are  the  sure  inheritance  of  this  virtuous 
and  pious  female.  Wherever  she  goes,  she  dis- 
seminates benefactions,  and  receives  in  return  be- 
t^.edietions-,  she  is,  the  orphan's  mother,  the  poor 


%vidow's  comforter,  and  the  social  and  sympathetic 
friend  of  the  poor  in  general.  If  sunden  danj>;er 
threatens,  her  eyes  are  constantly  fixed  upon  her 
Ahnighty  Friend:  if  sudden  hlessinp  de-eend, 
her  heart,  h<^r  grateful  heart,  is  instinctive  in  pour- 
ing  out  praises  and  thanksgivings  in  the  ears  of  her 
Heavenly  King, 

Thus  she  continues,  *'  for  ever  blessing  and  for 
ever  hlessed,"  till  the  period  arrives  'in  which 
death,  with  heavenly  smiles,  v»dll  give  her  a  pass- 
port to  her  Father's  kingtlom,  where  she  ascends 
with  glorious  exultation,  borne  on  the  golden  wings 
of  arch-angels,  and  is  congratulated  by  the  heaven- 
ly hosts,  and  conducted  to  the  presence  of  God  to 
enjoy  his  smiles  and  sublime  approbation,  for  ''  eye 
hath  not  seen^  nor  ear  hear  d^  neither  hathit  enter- 
ed into  the  heart  of  mem  to  concieve^^  the  glori- 
ous brilliancy  of  that  starry  diadem,  with  which 
this  virtuous  female  is  crowned  in  the  celestial 
world 

There  is  another  powerful  motive  I  would  sug- 
gest, to  stimulate  my  juvenile  readers  in  the  pur- 
suit of  piety  and  virtue;  and  that  is^  the  impossi^ 
bility  of  avoiding  the  malediction  and  penalties  of 
that  august  tribunal,  that  omnipresent  monitor, 
that  inexorable  reprover,  conscience  ;  though  you 
may  escape  the  laws  and  censures  of  men,  you 
cannot  escape  his  divinity  (if  T  may  call  it  so,} 
planted  in  your  own  breast,  who  is  always  accu- 
sing or  excusing,  commending  or  reprehending 
you  according  to  the  merit  or  demerit  of  your  ac- 
tions If  you  take  the  wrings  of  an  angel  and  ffy 
into  the  heavens,  the  pit  of  hell;  or  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth,  you  cannot  possibly  escape  the 
scrutiny  of  this  impartial  judge,  this  good  monitor, 
who  will  always  watch  you  wherever  you  go-  as 
dose  as  a  tiger  watches  his  prey,  and  will  seize  you 
vith  the  impetuousity  and  fury,  when  you  acf 
^ounterto  the  mandates  of  the  Eternal.  Even  i 
G  £ 


'Ml  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

there  vvere  no  future  rewards  and  punishmenh^ 
would  it  not  be  wisdom  in  you  to  live  a  virtuous 
life  in  order  to  avoid  the  lashes  of  a  guilty  con- 
science ?  1  would  ask,  which  of  the  faculties  of  the 
human  mind  are  improved  by  lollowiug  the  fash- 
ions and  fopperies  of  the  present  age  ?  For  my  part 
I  do  not  know  of  any.  It  rather  poisons  their  en- 
ergies, prevents  their  useful  tendencies  and  con- 
taminates eventually  the  innocent  pleasures  of  life  ; 
nay,  ruins  the  canstitutions  of  its  voteries.  That 
young  women,  who  caui^ht  a  cold  a  consumption^ 
and  2^  premature  death,  by  following  the  fashions, 
proves  i\\(d  force  of  my  arguments  ;  as  well  as  her 
companion,  whose  pallid  countenance  and  e?nacia- 
iedbody,  declares  to  every  candid  mind  that  the 
shrine  oi  fashion  commonly  called  the  temple  of 
pleasure,  is  rather  the  receptacle  of  pollution,  the 
repository  of  disorder^  and  the  sepulchre  of  death. 
Survey  it,  therefore,  with  horror,  and  avoid  it  with 
^.vidity.  Remember,  tl.at  those  who  expose  their 
odies  and  prostitute  their  n/mds,  counteract  the 
Aaws  of  nature,  and  bid  defiance  to  nature's  God, 
If,  therefore,  your  vain  and  volatile  (I  will  not  say 
vile  and  vulgar,)  companions  or  relatives,  solicit 
you  incessantly  and  importunately  to  participate 
the  unhallowed  pleasure,  the  superficial  delights, 
the  interdicted  indulgencies  which  depraved  fash- 
on  legalize?,  and  depravation  of  manners  has  ren^ 
.iered  popular:  C\<:i  not,  my  young  readers,  do  not, 
I  conjure  3  ou.  lisien  to  the  seductive,  the  enchant- 
ing the  syren  voice:  it  leads  to  the  chambers  of 
death,  and  poor  satisfa?iion  will  it  be  In  the  event 
if  your  participating  the  chimerical  and  romantic 
Measure  with  real  and  perpetual  pain,  to  reflect  that. 
Lhousands  of  fellow  creatures  have  acted  in  the 
same  manner.  But  rush  from  the  enchanting,  the 
fascinating  voice,  as  the  innocent  dove  precipitates 
her  flight  from  the  infatuating  presence  of  the  spec- 
kled serpent,  which  she  beholds  charming,  and  dc- 


VINDICATED.  M's 

stroying  her  contemporary  warblers  of  the  vernal 
groves  !  she  seeks  the  deep  recesses  of  the  embow- 
ering shade,  and  though  seated  on  the  lofty  bough 
of  the  spreading  foliage,  and  In  perfect  security, 
yet  still  her  heart  beats  ngxinst  the  branches.- 

Thusj  shii7i  the  dreadful  i^nare;  and  thus,  irem- 
A/£»  for  your  subsequent  satety.  A  flood  of  inter- 
esting thoughts,  intimately  c>nnected  with  your 
future  tranquility,  crowd  profusely  on  my  mind, 
the  majority  ot  which  1  must  reject,  as  I  havo 
almost  exceeded  my  limits  already  ;  some  of  which, 
however,  are  of  such  magnitude  and  importance, 
that  I  must  humbly  beg  the  reader  to  exert  her 
patience  and  maintain  composure,  while  I  merely 
hint  them. 

I  wo  jid  first,  therefore,  warn  you  from  the  com- 
mission of  a  Q,QYiiiin  diabolical  crime  ^S,  infernal 
origin,  which,  alas!  too  often  is  the  companion  of 
the  convivial  associations  of  your  sex,  as  well  as 
their  TEA  PARTIES.  I  mean  intellectual  assassina- 
ion.  Uh  !  how  often  is  the  character  of  an  un&us- 
meeting  neighbour^  acquaintance,  or  ^yen  relative^ 
n  such  ptirtie.^,  dissected^  scrutinized,  scandaliz- 
\d,  and  analyzed,  with  as  much  insensibility  as 
that  of  theb  .tcher  when  he  is  cutting  up  the  inro- 
oent  lamb  for  market ;  and  as  void  of  the  finer 
feeings  which  ennoble  human  nature,  as  the  lion 
while  devouring  his  mangled  prey.  Shun,  I 
beseech  you,  this  pestilential  vapour,  that  breathes 
defamation  ;  it  springs  spontaneously  from  the 
bottomless  pit,  and  is  tiie  emissary,  the  auxiliary, 
or,  I  might  spvy,  the  prime  minister  Satan,  by  which 
his  malevolence  is  displayed  in  miiiiature,  dissem- 
inated in  superabundance,  an<i  retaih*d  with  avidi- 
t}'.  The  impetuosity  and  fury  of  the  lion,  and 
t;he  subtil ity  and  vileness  of  the  serpent,  are  united 
reciprocally  in  this  offspring  of  hell.  Yet,  alas! 
notwithstanding  the  blackness  and  deformity  of 
this  banelul  crime^  it  pervades  every  grade^  and 


^49  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

contaminates  every  party  in  society  with  its  pesti- 
lential effluvia.  It  finds  admission  into  the  rustic, 
and  resplendent  habitations  oi  the  poorand  rich,  the 
noble  and  ignob-e,  the  peasant  a(»d  potentate,  the 
philosopher  and  the  divine;  it  hovers  over  the 
courts  of  judicature,  visits  periodically  the  pulpit 
and  presidential  chair,  resides  in  the  imperial 
throne  ;  is  depictured  on  the  lawyer's  physiogno- 
iny,  the  poet's  brain,  and  the  itinerant  scribbler's 
closet  is  its  perpetual  and  welcome  habitation.  It 
^vas  his  hell- born  fury  that  kmdled  the  fires  which 
consumed  the  martyrs;  that  blows  the  clarion  of 
war;  that  drenches  the  earth  with  human  blood  : 
that  peoples  and  re-peoples  the  reo^ions  of  eternal 
death  ;  that  promotes  ana«chy  and  intestine  com- 
motion in  nations,  discord  and  inquietude  in  fami- 
lies, and  all  the  boisterous  and  turbulent  passions  - 
in  the  breasts  of  individuals: — in  one  word,  it  ren- 
ders this  earth  an  hospital,  the  land  of  sickness  and 
sorrow;  which  would  otherwise  be  a  terrestrial 
paradise,  the  land  of  concord  and  peace.  Instead, 
therefore,  of  encouragmg,  theoretically,  by  sil-ence, 
or  by  lending  your  name,  hands,  or  tongue,!  t  ac- 
celerate this  work  of  mtelle'  tual  massacre,  use 
your  utmost  power  to  extirpate  it  from  every  cir- 
cle you  move  in,  from  every  house  you  enter;  re- 
member the  proverb,  * -Silence  speaks  consent.^' 
If  you  listen  with  composure  or  complacency  to 
the  voice  of  sl-inder,  you  are  virtually  its  abettor, 
in  this  respect  sufferance  is  pusillanimity,  silence 
inhumanity,  and  forbearance  treason  ;  for,  even  by 
silence  you  re-animate,  if  you  do  not  retail,  this 
exicrable  filth  of  hell. 

There  is  anorher  gigantic  foe,  which  I  would 
warn  you  above  all  things  to  beware  of:  I  mean 
the  proselyte  and  votary  of  seduction.  He  has 
already  been  held  up  to  popular  animadversion  and 
contempt  in  this  performance,  which  is  principa  ly 
intended  to  defend  you  from  his  innovations  zni 


VINDICATED.  250 

inachinations.  I  need  not  say  m  ch  to  on  this  sub- 
ject, only  to  advise  you  to  avoid  vile  and  vulgar 
fashion;  and  in  so  doing,  you  v;i]l  avoid  those 
innovators.  For  the  adept  at  seduction  is  encour- 
aged by  the  voluptuous  appearance  of  the  fashion- 
able female,  to  comence  his  attack  on  her  virtue 
Dress  prudently  and  modestly,  and  they  will  not 
dare  to  attempt  it;  but  will  view  you  with  respect 
and  admiration.  For,  no  man  admires  a  prudent 
and  modest  woman,  and  despises  an  unciiaste  and 
vicious  woman,  more  than  a  libertine.  Before  I 
conclude  this  subject  1  would  wish  to  inculcate  on 
the  minds  of  my  fair  readers,  one  truly  important 
lesson  ;  which  is,  to  view  w^ith  horror,  and  repulse 
with  magnanimity  and  scorn,  the  man  who  makes 
the  smallest  attack  upon  your  virtue.  Let  it  shock 
you  with  the  quickness  of  electricity,  and  letthere- 
pulse  be  instantaneous,  and  the  battle  is  won.  Bui 
alas!  how  many  thousands  of  unsuspecting,  uncon- 
:^cious,  and  virtuous  females,  have  been  ruined  by 
neglecting  this  precaution.  The  lover,  or  suitor, 
iirst  appears  with  diffidence  and  conscious  shame, 
to  assault  the  delicacy  of  the  silly  fair  one.  She 
repulses  him,  indeed,  with  gentle  reproof,  but  not 
vvith  suitable  indignation,  and  horror  of  heart ;  and 
er  pusillanimity  only  tends  to  render  still  more 
invincible  the  guilty  intentions  of  the  amorous 
iover.  Her  coyness,  in  short,  only  tends  to  inflame 
his  unhallowed  passions  to  the  highest  pilch  of 
voluptuous  delirium.  The  seqncl  verifies  the  pro- 
verb, ''give  an  inch  and  he  tvill  take  an  elL^^  And 
r  will  be  bold  to  affirm,  that  such  a  man,  though 
his  intentions,  affections,  and  resolutions,  be  ever 
so  ardent,  disinterested,  and  sincere,  towards  the 
girl  he  ruined,  prior  to  that  tragical  event;  yet 
posterior  to  it,  his  good  intentions  and  resolutions 
will  be  eventually  vanquished,  and  nothing,  I  am 
confident,  not  even  the  loss  of  fortune,  friends  and 
health,  or  even  life  itself^  will  so  effectually  anni- 


251  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

; 

hilate  the  love  that  man  entertains,  as  imprudence 
and  immodesty  on  the  part  of  that  woman;  and  this 
is  very  natural,  [f  I  love  a  woman  ardently  and 
alTectionately,  and  really  intend  to  make  her  my 
wedded  wife;  if  that  woman  will  allow  me,  pre- 
vious to  the  matrimonial  alliance,  to  take  liberties 
incompatible  with  their  chastity — this  imprudence 
on  her  part  destroys  all  confidence  on  mine;  and, 
consequently,  vanquishes  my  love,  though  not  my 
pity:  for  I  must  believe,  indeed  1  cannot  help  be- 
lieving, that  she  \vould  give  another  person,  under 
the  same  circumstances,  and  with  the  same  oppor- 
tunity and  importunity,  the  same  liberties  she  gave 
to  me  ;  and  she  is  not,  of  course,  a  fit  person  for  an 
honotirable  man's  wife:  and,  indeed,  1  could  not 
marry  her  without  sacrificing  my  future  mentd  and 
domestic  peace  ;  for  I  never  could  have  real  con- 
fidence in  her;  and,  consequently,  jealousy  would 
be  always,  on  the  most  trivial  occasions,  lifting  up 
its  distracted  head,  and,  with  the  keenest  pang, 
imbittering  my  future  days. 
A  great  deal  might  be  said  to  elucidate  this  topic, 
and  a  long  dedaetion  of  examples  might  be  addu- 
ced to  consididate  what  has  already  been  said  ; 
but,  I  very  much  fear  that  I  am  enlarging  the  sub- 
ject too  much ;  suffice  it,  therefore,  to  add,  that  the 
only  sure  and  certain  means  you  can  successfully 
use  to  secure  your  lover's  heart  and  hand,  is  by  an 
exemplary  modest  demeanor,  a  prudent  reserved- 
ness,  an  open  cheerfulness,  void  of  even  the  appear- 
ance of  coquetry  ;  and,  to  crown  all,  a  modest  inge- 
auiousness,  which,  in  the  sight  of  an  intelligent 
man,  is  a  pearl  of  great  price.  Again,  the  most 
effectual  means  you  can  possibly  use  to  cause  jour 
lover,  through  virtuous  and  honorable, /*for  strong 
temptations  with  the  best  prevail,''  to  forsake  you 
forever,  is  by  allowing  him  to  take  liberties  incom- 
patible with  your  delicacy;  and,  if  you  let  bin? 
50  a  step  farther,  and  storm  the  ramparts  that  de 


VINDICATED.  2i2 

?nds  your  chastity,  the  moment  this  is  effected  he 
is  flejd,  however  ardent  and  pure  his  passion  may 
have  been  before;  for  ever  fled,  and  leaves  you  in 
silent  sadness  to  bewail  your  credulity,  imbecility, 
duplicity,  and  premature  prostitution. 

^*  Ruin  ensues,  reproach,  and  endless  siiame. 
And  this  false  step  for  ever  blasts  her  fame  ! 
In  vain  with  tears  the  loss  she  may  deplore. 
In  vain  look  back,  to  what  she  was  before, 
She  sets  like  stars,  that  fall  to  rise  no  more." 

You  see  the  dreadfully  formidable  precipice 
extended  beneath  you ;  therefore  beware  and 
approach  it  not  on  your  peril,  as  its  environs 
are  enchanted  p!;round.  Remember,  also,  tiie 
magnitude  of  the  crime,  and  that  according  to 
the  Mosaic  dispensation,  the  female  who  suffered 
herself  to  be  violated,  when  it  was  in  her  power  to 
call  for  help,  and  receive  assistance,  was  inmsidered 
guilty  of  the  crime  of  whoredom,  and  stoned  to 
death  for  the  same. 

There  is  one  sentiment  1  would  particularly  wish 
to  inculcate  upon  your  minds,  whert?  it  should  al- 
ways hold  a  distinguished  place  ;  and  that  is,  the 
great  danger  resulting  to  your  sex,  from  pecipitate 
and  imprudent  associations  Yoa  should  compare 
your  character  to  a  clean  sheet  of  white  papei*, 
which,  if  once  stained,  will  be  always  visibly  un- 
clean and  unfit  for  use,  unless  for  the  most  common 
purposes.  Remember  your  reputation  may  as 
easily  be  stained  by  as?>ociating  with  vain  and  vi- 
cious companions,  as  a  clean  sheet  of  paper,  when 
deposited  with  unclean  materials  Many  unsus- 
pecting innocent  fenmles  have  been  ruined  by 
keeping  company  with  vicious  person*  of  their 
own  sex,  wl)ose  cr^^dulity  proved  a  prelude  to  their 
degradation  andinfamv.  I'his  is  beautifully  exem- 
plified in  the  pathetic  History  of  Charlotte  Temple^ 


^m  FEMALE  eHARACTER 

a  tale  of  truth,  written  by  Mrs.  Rowson;  and  per- 
haps, 1  might  say,  without  stepping  over  the  line 
of  veracity,  thousands  of  unhappy,  unconscious 
females,  for  the  want  of  this  caution,  are  led  to  de- 
struction in  the  same  manner.  A  secret  desirCj» 
which  lurks  iu  the  breast  of  most  y^ung  women, 
often  is  the  cause  of  innumerable  evils  to  them- 
selves  in  particular,  and  society  in  general :  and  that 
is,  the  love  of  being  admired.  They  are  stimulated 
by  this  propensity,  to  embrace  every  opportunity 
of  attending  places  of  public  resort.  Many  a  beau- 
teous f^  male  appears  in  the  temple  of  God,  for  the 
sake  of  seemg,  and  being  seen  and  admired  ;  as 
well  as  the  theatre  and  ball  room :  but,  alas !  the 
incense,  the  adulation,  the  admiration  they  receive, 
is  too  often  from  the  characters  they  should  avoid 
and  despise;  namely,  coxcombs  'and  libertines, 
who  flatter  in  order  to  ru^n  them.  Too  many  of 
your  sex,  wnile  they  feel  the  most  cogent  ambition 
to  be  admired  for  their  personal  charms,  pay  no 
respect  whatever  to  their  mental  qualifications; 
by  this  neglect  they  become  the  dupes  of  their  own 
designs,  the  victims  of  the  artful  rake,  and  the  con« 
tempt  of  the  discerning  part  of  both  sexes  ;  and, 
while  they  are  admired  by  the  licentious  many, 
they  are  disesteemed  by  the  virtuous  few. 

Were  young  females  convinced  of  the  dangers 
by  which  they  will  l>e  surrounded,  the  moment 
they  shake  off  the  manacles  of  maternal  restraint, 
they  would  tremble  for  their  safety  ;  but,  alas !  this 
they  seldom  think  of,  till  environed  by  seductive 
foes,  like  the  beauteous  lamb  that  wonders  from 
the  fold  into  the  woodlands,  it  seeks  the  vernal 
groves  and  embowering  shades,  \\  crops  the  ver- 
dant green,  and  skips  about  every  bush;  when,  lo! 
the  beast  of  prey  surround  and  devour  it;  while 
its  dam  bleats  and  laments  its  loss  in  vain.  No 
tongue  can  tell  the  danger  resulting  to  young  wo- 
men from  this  fatal  propensity;  too  many  unhap- 


VINDICATE©.  ^54 

py  (1  will  not  say  infamousj  women  arc  the  most 
beautiful  to  be  found,  as  it  respects  personal 
charms :  their  beauty  proves  their  destruction. 
Hence  the  more  beautiful  a  woman  is,  the  more 
fearful  and  guarded  f  not  vain  and  proud,)  she  ought 
undoubtedly  to  be* 

"The  prudent  nymph  whose  cheeks  disclose, 

The  lily  and  the  blushing  rose, 

From  public  view  her  charms  will  screen, 

And  rarely  in  the  crowd  be  seen; 

This  simple  truth  shall  keep  her  wise, 

The  fairest  fruits  attract  the  flies.'* 

It  is  not  a  fact,  that  females,  when  making  choice 
of  what  are  called  lovers,  do  not  select  prudent, 
discreet,  and  honourable  persons  of  oar  sex,  to 
place  their  affections  upon;  but  rather  the  most 
volatile  and  dissipated  ;  so  that  the  loquacious  fop, 
versatile  rake,  and  artful  villian,  who  can  laugh, 
sing,  swear,  dance,  and  dress  fashionably,  Is  prefer- 
red as  a  female  favourite;  while  the  prudent  unas- 
suming young  man  is  sent  in  silent  sadness  away. 
Is  it  not  truly  astonishing,  that  a  young  woman, 
with  a  particle  of  common  sense  in  her  head,  or 
generosity  in  her  heart,  would  prefer  a  libertine 
newly  returned  from  a  brothel,  to  the  most  discreet 
of  our  sex.  Yet  it  is  a  lamentable  fact  that  such 
connections  are  frequently  the  cause  of  everlasting 
distress  and  misery  to  the  unhappy  injudicious 
female,  who  has  to  endure  a  life  of  woe  for  the  im- 
prudence and  indiscretion  of  a  moment.  The  only 
way,  therefore,  to  avoid  the  misery  resulting  from 
such  imprudent  connections,  is,  for  the  unexperien- 
ced female  not  to  give  (I  will  not  say  her  heart  or 
hand,  but  even)  her  company  for  a  moment  in  pri- 
vate, to  a  man  of  dissipated  character;  for,  if  she 
gives  one  indulgence  the  rest  will  be  taken  of  course* 

D 


MS  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

In  order  to  demonstrate  the  fatality  of  indulging 
injudicious  attachments,  and  allowing  men  of  loose 
morals  too  much  familiarity,  I  need  only  point  to 
the  histories  of  many  unhappy  females,  v^ho  became 
the  victims  of  matrimonial  infecility  through  mju- 
Tlicious  prepossessions ;  and  (I  had  almost  said,)  the 
omnipotence  of  first  impressions,  and  of  premature 
attachments,   with  our  sex.     Some  females,   who 
profess  to  be  discerning  and  discreet,  will  not  hesi- 
tate to  affirm,  that  '•a  reformed  rake  makes  the  best 
husband.     I  am  truly  astonished  that   a  woman  of 
common   discretion    and  virtue,    would    harbour 
such  a  thought,  much  less  express  such  a  sentiment! 
Surely   she  ca«not  be  acquainted  with  human  na- 
ture, the  depravity  ot  the  heart  and  tjie  invincibility 
of  bad  habits,  or  she  would  not  suppose  that  such  a 
man    can  make  a  good  virtuous  husband,  without 
the  converting  grace  of  God.     I  will  be  bold  to  say, 
that   it  is  utterly  impossible,  without  that  all-con- 
quering grace,  for  any  man  who  may  properly  be 
denominated  a  libertine,  to  make  (I  will   not  say  a 
good,  but  even)  a  just  husband.     No  evil  propen- 
sity is  more  unconquerable  when  consolidated  by 
habit,  and   constitutional  weakness,   than  inconti- 
nence; and  though  such  men  when  they  place  their 
affections  on   women,  and  find  seduction  impracti- 
cable to  accomplish  their  wishes,  they  of  course 
marry  them,  previousl}  making  promises  of  eternal 
constancy  ;  but,  alas  !  the  moment  opportunity  of- 
fers (^for  by  the  by,  they  will  not  require  importu- 
nity to  solicit,^  they  turn  the  dog  to  his  vomit,  or 
the  sow  that  was  washed  to  her  wallowing  in  the 
mire;  and,  indeed,  I  will  say  this  much  for  then;, 
they  cannot  conquer  their  inclinations,  while  under 
the  influence  of  this  dreadful  depravity. 

I  refer  to  facts  to  prove  my  arguments : — witness 
how   many  wives  are  neglected  and  despised   by 
their  husbands,  who  are  the  uniform  attendants  of 
brothels  and  places  of  infamous  resort,  and  the  vio 
lent  votaries  of  seduction.    But  w^e  will  admit,  f?*- 


VINDICATED.  256 

argument's  sake,  that  the  reformed  rake  proves  al- 
waj^s  faithful  to  the  bridal  bed;  yet  then,  even  then, 
let  the  virtuous  female  make  a  compi^rative  estimate 
of  his  character,  and  that  of  a  uniformly  modest 
man — the  latter  of  whom  has  a  pure  heart  and  un- 
adulterated aflections,  to  present  to  the  woman  of 
his  choice;  who  can  never,  in  the  moments  appro- 
priated to  reflection,  think  or  say  of  her  husband, 
as  follows: — he  has  by  intemperance  corrupted  his 
principles,  vitiated  his  taste  for  domestic  enjoy- 
ments, enslaved  himself  to  the  most  detestable 
crimes,  often  laid  the  snares  of  seductioii,  ruined 
female  innocence,  and  abandoned  to  shame  the 
girls  who  adored  him,  and  whom  he  seduced  from 
the  paths  of  virtue;  he  has  haunted  all  the  broth- 
els within  his  reach,  and,  after  all,  presented  me 
with  the  leavmgs  of  strumpets,  a  ruined  constitu- 
tion, a  depraved  heart,  and  a  corrupt  taste,  which 
only  requires  an  opportunity  when  it  will  be  im- 
mediately gratified. — In  short,  the  bitter  lamenta- 
tions and  unutterable  sorrow  of  thousands  of  slight- 
ed consorts,  will  give  the  lie  in  form  to  the  absurd 
assertion,  that  a  "a  reformed  rake  makes  the  best 
husband." 

With  respect  to  the  necessary  directions,  which 
might  be  given  you  to  facilitate  your  safe  and  hap- 
py passage  throuei;h  the  changing  scenes  of  life,  ma- 
ny volumes  would  not  contain  them  ;  suffice  it  to 
recommand  to  your  constant  perusal,  our  dear  Re- 
deemer's inimitable  sermon  on  the  mount;  it  is 
full  of  matter  the  most  judicious,  advice  the  most 
appropriate,  and  reproofs  the  most  heavenly  and 
divine;  and  I  might  recommend  the  most  attentive 
imitation  of  his  unblemished  life  ;  take  him  for 
your  model,  for  he  has  commanded  you  so  to  do. 
"  Learn  of  me^'^  says  he  ^^  for  I  am  meek  andloiv- 
ly  in  hearty  and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your 
souls^  Attend  to  all  his  precepts  with  religious 
'^ninctuality;  but  above  all.  to  that  where  dutv  t(^ 


257  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

parents  is  enforced  ;  love  them  affectionately,  obey 
them  diligently,  and  serve  them  unweariedly.  Let 
me  tell  you,  that  filial  ingratitude  is  more  enormous 
than  the  sin  of  witchcraft.  What  have  they  done  ; 
or,  rather  what  have  they  not  done,  to  promote 
your  happiness !  How  great,  therefore,  is  the  debt 
of  love  you  owe  them.  And  you,  whose,  parents 
unhappy  lead  you  astray,  far  from  the  fold  of  Christ; 
Oh !  pity  and  pray  for  them  *,  being  blinded  by  the 
god  of  this  world,  the  prince  of  darkness,  they 
lead  you  where  they  think  you  will  find  happiness 
and  pleasurable  sensations  ;  but  which,  alas  !  prove 
to  be  the  chambers  of  pain  and  pollution. 

Though  you  are  bound  with  great  deference  to 
obey  your  parents  in  every  thing  else,  yet  you  must 
not  on  any  account  obey  them,  when  their  injunc- 
tions tend  to  cause  you  to  disobey  God,  and  mur- 
der your  own  souls.  You  should  forego  your  pa* 
rental  home,  and  even  sacrifice  your  life,  before 
you  should  obey  them  in  this  instance ;  yet  not- 
withstanding their  degeneracy  and  depravit}'-,  you 
are  to  remember  they  are  still  your  parents,  and 
you  should  nurture,  cherish,  love  and  serve  them, 
to  the  utmost  extent  of  your  power,  and  to  the  last 
moment  of  their  lives.  Remember  how  they  sup- 
plied your  wants  in  helpless  infancy,  bore  with  the 
peevishness  of  your  childhood,  and  protected  and 
directed  you  while  in  the  slippery  paths  of  youth. 
They  warded  off  the  danger  by  which  you  vvere 
threatened  ;  and^  perhaps,"  risked  their  own  lives 
to  save  your's.  They  pitied  and  pardoned  your 
tvayward  indiscretions,  and  youthtul  folly;  and, 
when  they  used  the  rod,  it  was  with  parental  tears 
trickling  down  their  cheeks;  and  even  novy,  when 
they  lead  you  on  the  stage  of  fashionable  life,  tho' 
it  is  as  slippery  as  glass,  while  iiery  billows  roll 
below  it ;  they  do  it,  I  am  confident^  with  the  most 
earnest  desire,  and  anxious  solicitude  to  promote 
your  happiness.    Do  not  detest,  but  pity  them  ^  let 


the  magnitude  of  your  filial  and  sympathetic  com- 
passion" run  parallel,  with  their  blindness  and  de- 
generacy, their  fashionable  follies  and  splendid 
wretchedness.  Remember  what  anxiety  and  labor 
they  endured,  while  making  provision  for  your 
comfortable  and  respectable  accommodation.  You 
are  now  in  the  morning  of  life ;  but,  remember 
your  sun  may  set  at  noon.  View  the  churchyardj 
and  it  will  teach  you  an  useful  lesson,  relative  to 
the  shortness  of  time,  and  certainty  of  the  approach 
of  death  :  yet,  if  you  should  live  to  see  many  years^ 
and  in  the  morning  of  your  life  unhappily  prove 
disobedient  to  your  parents,  perhaps,  in  your  own 
turn  also,  you  will  be  cursed  with  disobedient  chil- 
dren, and  all  the  woes  connected  with  filial  ingrati- 
tude: you  will  then  feel,  as  well  as  know,  how  in- 
cumbent it  is  upon  children  to  honor  their  parents^ 
to  attend  to  their  precepts,  to  reverence  their  grey 
hairs,  support  their  declining  natures,  as  well  as  to 
solace  their  minds  in  sickness,  and  close  their  eyes 
in  death;  you  will  then  abhor  your  unfilial  con- 
duct, and  blush  at  the  remembrance  of  your  diso- 
bedience :  arnl  were  liot  the  dead  regardless  of  the 
cries  of  the  living,  you  would  approach,  with  so- 
lemn sadness^  the  solitary  tombs  of  your  sainted 
parents,  and  lament,  with  tears  of  penitential  soi'«> 
row,  your  filial  ingratitude ;  and  with  those  tears 
would  you  bedew  the  graves  which  contain  their 
ashes  !  This  you  would  doy  I  know,  and  judge  from 
my  own  feelings,  for  I  have  myself  proved  (I  speak 
it  to  my  shame)  an  undutiful  child. 

Finally,  remember  you  were  created  for  the  spe° 
cial  purpose  of  being  the  temples  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  here  on  earth,  and  the  celebra^ors  of  the  glo- 
rious praises  of  the  Holy  Trinity  hereafter  in  hea- 
ven ;  therefore,  let  your  conduct  correspond  with 
your  high  vocation. 

I  will  now  conclude,  by  illustrating  the  caution  I 
have  already  given,  respecting  prudence  you  must 


i>^  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

use  in  your  intercourse  with  the  other  sex,  with  au 
appropriate  poem.  It  is  from  the  writings  of  a  wo- 
man who  was  blessed  with  an  ingenious  head,  but 
an  erring  heart:  let  thi^  also  be  a  lesson  to  teach 
you,  that  the  most  inimitable  talents  incomparable 
personal  charms^  literary  acquirements,  with  arti- 
ficial brilliancy,  riches  and  fame,  will  be  like  a 
feather,  when  put  in  competition  with  female  de- 
licacy;  therefore  avoid  not  only  the  just  censures 
of  the  world,  but  also  be  so  scrupulously  circum- 
spect and  religiously  discreet,  as  to  leave  it  out  of 
tne  power  of  calumny  itself  to  stain  your  good 
name,  or  depreciate  your  moral  character,  and  take 
Ihe  epostle's  advice  by  avoiding  even  the  appear- 
ance of  evil. 

May  the  Almighty  Parent  of  Good  render  these 
friendly  admonitions  a  tenfold  blessing  to  you,  and 
a  benediction  to  thousands  of  your  sex,  when  I  am 
wrapped  in  the  cold  embraces  of  the  tomb. 

The  danger  to  which  the  female  sex  is  exposed^ 
from  implicitly  trusting  to  the  professions  and  pro- 
testations of  libertines,  is  beautifully  exemplified  in 
the  following  poem  written  by  the  celebrated  Mrs 
FilkingtoDj  a  sketch  of  whose  biography  precedes 


Mrs.  Pilkington  was  daughter  to  Dr.  John  Vaii 
^>ewen,  and  was  born  in  Dublin,  in  the  year  171^* 
She  had  a  lively  genius,  and  natural  turn  to  poetry^ 
vhich   qualifications   very   early   gained   her   the 
^Mendship  of  Dn  Swift,  and  several  other  persons 
of  learning  and  distinction  in  Ireland.     But  as  this 
"idy  has  been  her  own  biographer.  We  shall  refei" 
he  curious  reader,  for  further  particulars  concern^ 
ngher,  to  her  own  memoirs :  and  shall  only  ob- 
serve, that  it  is  a  pity  this  lady  was  not  bfessed 
vith  discretion,  and,  we  may  add,  good  fortune^  ia 
n^m&  «>ronortion  to  her  gf  aius.'^ 


THE 

STATUJBS:, 

OR 

IfRULl*  OF  CONST AXTC7. 


**  In  a  fair  Island  in  the  Southern  main, 
Slest  with  indulgent  bkie«,  and  kindly  rain, 
A  princess  liv'd,  of  origin  divine, 
Of  bloom  celestial,  and  imperial  line. 

**  In  that  sweet  season,  when  the  mountain  sui] 
Prepares  with  joy  his  radiant  course  to  run. 
Led  by  the  graces,  and  the  dancing  hours. 
And  wakes  to  life  the  various  race  of  flowers  j 
The  lovely  queen  forsook  her  shining  court, 
For  rural  scenes,  and  healthful  sylvan. sport. 

"  It  so  befel,  that  as,  in  cheerful  talk, 
Her  nymphs  and  she  pursued  their  evening  walk; 
On  the  green  margin  of  the  oozy  deep. 
They  found  a  graceful  youth  dissolved  in  ^leep. 
Whose  charms  the  queen  surveyM  with  fond  delight^ 
And  hung  enamourM  o'er  the  pleasing  sight ; 
By  her  command  the  youth  was  straight  convey'dr^ 
^nd,  sleeping,  softly  in  her  palace  laid. 


8S1  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

"  Now  ruddy  morning  purpled  o'er  the  sklesv 
And  beamy  light  unseal'd  the  stranger's  eyes. 
Who  cried  ah)ud,  ye  gods,  unfold  this  scene  f 
Where  am  I !    what  can  all  these  wonders  mean  ? 

**  Scarce  had  he  spoke,  when  with  officious  care^ 
Attendant  nymphs  a  fragrant  bath  prepare  ;. 
He  ro>ie,  he  bath'd,  and  on  his  lovely  head 
Anibrosial  sweets,  and  precious  oil  they  shed. 
To  deck  his  polish'd  limbs,  a  robe  they  brought. 
In  all  the  various  dies  of  beauty  wrought : 
Then  ltd  him  to  the  queen,  who  on  a  throne 
Of  burnish'd  gold,  and  beamy  diamonds  shone  ; 
But,  Oh  1  what  wonder  seized  her  beauteous  guest? 
What  love,  what  ecstacy  his  soul  possess'd  ! 
Entranc'd  he  stood,  and  on  his  falt'ring  tongue 
Imperfect  words,  and  half  formed  accents  hung ; 
Nor  less  the  queen  the  blooming  youth  admired. 
Nor  less  delight  and  love  her  soul  inspired, 

**  O  stranger  !  said  the  queen,  if  higher  driven 
By  adverse  winds,  or  sent  a  guest  from  heaven. 
To  me  the  wretched  never  sue  in  vain. 
This  fruitful  isle  acknowledges  my  reign ; 
Then  speak  thy  wishes  and  thy  wants  declare, 
And  no  denial  shall  attend  your  pray'r ; 
She  paus'4  and  blush'd, — the  youth  his  silence  broke 
And  kneeling,  thus  the  charming  queen  bespoke : 

**  O  goddess  !  for  a  form  so  bright  as  thine 
Speaks  thee  descended  of  celestial  line  : 
Low  at  your  feet  a  prostrate  king  behold, 
Whose  faithless  subjects  sold  his  life  for  gold  ; 
I  fly  a  cruel  tyrant's  lawless  hand. 
And  shipwreck  drove  my  vessels  on  your  strand* 
But  why  do  I  complain  of  fortune's  frowns  ? 
0r  what  are  titles,  honours,  sceptres,  crownss, 


VINDICATED,  UH 

Vo  this  sweet  moment  ?  while  In  fond  amaze 
On  such  transporting  excellence  I  gaze  ! 
Such  symetry  of  shape  !  so  fair  a  face ! 
Such  finished  excellence !  such  perfect  grace  ^ 
Hear  then  my  only  wish^  and  oh  !  approve 
The  ardent  prayer  which  supplicates  thy  love. 

**  From  JSTeptime  know,  O  Prince,  my  birth  I  claim. 
Replies  the  queen,  and  Ljicida^s  my  name  ; 
This  island,  these  attendant  nymphs  he  gave. 
The  fair-hair*d  daughters  of  the  azure  wave  : 
But  he  whose  fortune  gains  me  for  a  bride 
Must  have  his  constancy  severely  tried, 
One  day  each  moon  am  I  compell'd  to  ga 
To  my  great  father's  wat'ry  realms  below, 
Where  coral  groves,  celestial  red  display, 
And  blazing  diamonds  emulate  the  day. 
In  this  short  absence,  if  your  love  endures^ 
My  heart  and  empire  are  for  ever  your's ; 
And  hoary  JVepttme  to  reward  your  truth, 
Shall  crown  you  with  immortal  bloom  and  youth  ; 
3ut  instant  death  will  on  your  falsehood  wait, 
N"or  can  my  tenderness  prevent  your  fate. 
Twice  twenty  times  in  wedlock's  sacred  band 
My  royal  father  joined  my  plighted  hand  ; 
Twice  twenty  noble  youths,  alas  t   are  dead, 
Who  in  my  absence  stain*d  the  nuptail  bed  ; 
^our  virtues,  prince,  may  claim  a  nobler  thi-one, 
3ut  mine  is  yielded  on  these  terms  alone. 

"Delightful  terms  \  replied  the  raptur'd  youth. 
Accept  my  constanc)'^  my  endless  truth. 
Perfidious,  faithless  men !  enrag'd,  he  cried, 
XTaey  merited  the  fate  by  which  they  died  ;^ 


263  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Accept  a  heart  incapable  of  change. 

Thy  beauty  shall  forbid  desire  to  range  ; 

No  other  fornti  shall  to  mine  eye  seem  fair, 

3^0  other  voice  attract  my  listening  ear, 

No  charms  but  thine  shall  e'er  my  soul  approve^ 

3o  aid  thy  vot'ry  potent  god  of  love. 

*•  Now  loud  applauses  through  the  palace  ringj 
■file  duteous  subjects  hail  their  godlike  king  : 
To  feastfui  mirth  they  dedicate  the  davj 
vVhile  tuneful  voices  chant  the  nuptial  lay. 
Love  ditied  airs,  hymnM  by  the  vocal  choir. 
Sweetly  attemper*d  to  the  warbling  lyre ; 
But  when  the  sun  descending  sought  the  main. 
And  low  brow*d  night  assum'd  her  silent  reign  i 
They  to  the  marriage  bed  conveyed  the  bride. 
And  laid  the  raptur*d  bridegroom  by  her  side, 

*^'  Now  rose  the  sun,  and  with  auspicious  ray 
Bispell'd  the  dewy  mists,  and  give  the  day  ; 
When  Luclday  with  anxious  care  opprest. 
Thus  wak*d  her  sleeping  lord  from  downy  rest 

"  Soul  of  my  soul  and  monarch  of  my  heart. 
This  day  she  cried,  this  fatal  day  we  part ; 
Alas  !  my  boding  soul  is  lost  in  woe. 
And  from  mine  eyes  tears  unbidden  flow 

"  Joy  of  my  life,  dismiss  those  needless  fears. 
Replied  the  king,  and  stay  those  precious  tears  ; 
Should  lovely  Venus  leave  her  native  sky. 
And,  at  my  feet,  imploring  fondness,  lie. 
E'en  she,  the  radiant  queen  of  sofi  desires. 
Should,  disappointed,  burn  with  hopeless  fires. 

"  The  heart  of  man  the  queen's  experience  knew 
Ferjur'd  and  false,  yet  wish'd  to  find  him  t?Vl€  - 


VINDICATES.  304 

"She  si^M  retirirrg,  and  in  regal  state. 
The  king  conducts  her  to  the  palace  gate; 
Where  sacred  JVepiune^s  chrystal  chariot  stands, 
The  wondrous  work  of  his  celestial  hands  .• 
Six  harness'd  sv/ans  the  bright  machine  convey 
Swift  through  the  air,  or  pathless  wat'ry  way  , 
The  birds  with  eagle  speed  the  air  divide. 
And  plunge  the  goddess  in  the  sounding  tide. 

**  Slow  to  the  court  the  pensive  king  returns. 
And  sighs  in  secret,  in  silence  mourns ; 
So  in  the  grove  sad  Philomel  complains 
In  mournful  accents,  and  melodious  strains  i- 
Iler  plaintive  woes  fill  the  resounding  lawn, 
from  starry  vesper  to  the  rosy  dawn. 

**  The  king,  to  mitigate  his  tender  pain. 
Seeks  the  apartment  of  the  virgin  train. 
With  sportive  mirth  sad  absence  to  beguilC;, 
And  bid  the  melancholy  moments  smile ; 
But  there  deserted  lonely  rooms  he  found. 
And  solitary  silence  reign'd  around. 

"He  call'd  aloud,  when  lo  !  a  hag  appears. 
Bending  beneath  deformity  and  y(  ars. 
Who  said,  my  liege,  explain  your  sacred  will, 
With  joy  your  sovereign  purpose  1  fulfil. 
My  will !  detested  wretch  !  avoid  my  sight. 
And  hide  thy  hedious  shape  in  endless  night. 
What !  does  thy  queen,  o'er-run  with  rude  distrust 
Tlesolve  by  force  to  keep  a  husband  just  ? 

"  You  wrong,  replied  the  hag,  your  royal  wife. 
Whose  care  is  love,  and  love  to  guard  your  life. 
The  race  of  mortals  are  by  nature  frail. 
And  strong  temptations  with  the  best  prevail 


^65  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

Be  Ibat  my  care  he  said,  be  thine  to  send 
The  virghi  trahi,  let  them  my  will  attend. 

**  The  beldam  fled— The  cheerful  nymphs  advance 
And  tread  to  measured  airs  the  mazy  dance  ; 
The  enraptur'd  prince  with  greedy  eye  surveys 
The  blooming  maids;  and  covets  still  to  gaze* 

"  At  length  a  maid,  superior  to  the  rest, 
Arra>*d  ia  smiles,  in  virgin  beauty  drest^ 
Received  his  passion,  and  returned  his  love, 
And  softly  woo'd  him  to  the  silent  grove. 
Enclosed  in  deepest  shades  of  full  grown  wood. 
Within  the  grove  a  spacious  grotto  stood, 
Where  forty  youths  in  marble  seem  to  mourn, 
Each  youth  reclining  on  a  fun*ral  urn ; 
Thither  the  nymph  directs  the  monarch's  way, 
He  treads  her  footsteps, joyful  to  obey. 
There,  fir*d  with  passion,  clasp'd  her  to  his  breast, 
And  thus  the  transport  of  his  soul  confest. 

**  Delightful  beauty  !  deck'd  with  every  charm 
High  fancy  paints  !  or  glowing  love  can  form  ! 
I  sigh,  I  gaze,  I  tremble,  I  adore  ! 
Such  lovely  looks  ne'er  blest  my  sight  before  ! 
Here,  under  covert  of  th'  embowering  shade, 
For  love's  delights  and  tender  transports  made. 
Ko  busy  eye  our  raptures  to  detect. 
No  envious  tongue  to  censure  or  direct ; 
Here  yield  to  love,  and  tenderly  employ 
The  silent  season  in  ecstatic  joy. 

"  With  arms  enclosed,  \\\s  treasure  to  retain, 
He  sigh'd  and  woo'd,  but  woo'd,  and  sigh'd  in  vain 
She  rush'd  indignant  from  his  fond  embrace, 
\^niile  rage  with  blushes  paints  her  virgin  face  ; 


VINDI€ATEDo  me 

Vet  still  he  sues  with  suppliant  hands  and  cye», 
While  she  to  raagie  charms  for  vengeance  flies. 

"  A  limpid  fountain  murinur.d  through  the  cave  : 
She  iiird  her  palm  with  translucent  wave. 
And  sprinkling  erred,  receive,  false  man,  in  time. 
The  just  reward  of  th}'  detested  crime. 
Thy  changeful  sex  in  perfidy  delight, 
Depise  perfection,  and  fair  virtue  slight  5 
False,  fickle,  base,  tyrannic,  and  unkind. 
Whose  heart  no  vows  can  chain,  nor  honor  bind 
Slaves  to  the  bad,  to  the  deserving  worst. 
Sick  of  your  twentieth  love,  as  of  your  first. 
The  statues,  which  this  haliow'd  grot  adorn. 
Like  thee  were  lovers,  and  like  thee  foresworn  ^ 
Whose  faithless  hearts  no  kindness  could  securet; 
Nor  for  a  day  preserve  their  passion  pure ; 
Whom  neither  love  nor  beauty  could  restrain. 
Nor  fear  of  endless  infamy  and  pain. 
In  me  behold  thy  queen ;  for  know,  with  ease. 
We  deities  assume  each  form  we  please ; 
Nor  can  the  feeble  ken  of  mortal  eyes 
perceive  the  goddess  through  the  dark  disguise. 
Now  feel  the  force  of  heaven's  avenging  hand. 
And  here  inanimate  for  ever  stand. 

**  She  spoke— Amaz'd  the  listening  monarch  stood^ 
And  icy  horror  froze  his  ebbing  blood ; 
Thick  shades  of  death  upon  his  eyelids  creep. 
And  clos'd  them  fast  in  everlasting  sleep  ; 
No  sense  of  life,  no  motion  he  retains, 
But  fix'd,  aiireadful  monument  remains  . 
A  statute  now,  and  if  revivM  once  more, 
Would  prove,  no  doubt,  perjur'd  as  beforev 


P 


^IPIPM^^DII^ 


Since  closing  the  prefixed  desultory  strictures, 
vvhich  has  been  some  months  ago,  a  variety  oi' 
thoughts,  connected  with  the  subject,  have  period! 
caily  struck  my  mind.  I  neglected  to  attend  to 
them,  as  I  feared  I  had  been  too  prolix  already  : 
however,  the  return  of  these  reflections,  which 
were  sufficiently  distinct  from  the  antecedent, 
seemed  to  impress  my  mind  with  the  idea,  that 
something  more  should  be  said  on  the  subject. 
Wishing,  therefore,  to  obey  the  dictates  of  con- 
science, without  attending  to  the  formality  of  the 
literati  ;  indeed  were  I  to  attend  to  them,  1  would 
lop  oflf  two-thirds  of  the  most  useful  matter  in  the 
performance,  in  order  to  render  the  remainder  sys- 
tematic, and  thus  please  the  vitiated  taste  of  pe- 
dants ;  I  will  in  this  appendix  suggest  some  of  the 
thoughts  alluded  to,  assured  that  it  will  unburthen 
the  vvriter's  mind,  if  it  fails  in  reforming  the  rea- 
ders heart. 

In  the  first  place,  I  have  not  only  anticipated  the 
acrimony  which  the  votaries  of  fashion  will  mani- 
fest towards  my  performance;  but,  I  almost  alrea- 
dy hear,  vociferated  and  reverberated,  the  hue  and 
cry  of  legions  of  libertines,  coquettes,  and  prudes, 
against  my  hypothesis.  Say  they — behold  the 
bombastical  rhapsody  of  that  sentimental  moralist 
which  eventually  tends  to  rob  us  of  innocent  plea- 
sures, and  darken  the  atmosphere  of  the  juvenile, 
and  volatile  mind,  with  the  gloom  of  solemn  sad- 
ness, or  monastic  restramt !    Nothing  can  be  more 


false,  nothing  can  be  more  uneandid,  than  such  a 


liS; 


^UB  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

t!onelusion.     The  very  reverse  of  the  above  suppo^- 
sition  is  the  triie  case. 

The  primary  object  of  the  performance  is  to  bring 
the  versatile  sons  and  daughters  of  folly,  into  the  de- 
lectable path  in  which  true  pleasure  abounds.  Plea- 
)ure  is  the  first  gift  of  the  Eternal,  the  most  amiable 
undmostbeloveddaughter  of  Heaven;  but,  alas!  the 
fugitive  sojourner  on  earth,  the  inmate  of  the  social 
-lad  sentimental  philanthropist,  which  expands,  h«- 
.nanizsG,  and  exhilerates  his  heart:  but,  the  exile 
.ind  outcast  of  the  unsocial,  the  selfish,  the  parsi- 
vnonious  and  the  penurious  votaries  of  sensuality, 
rhe  pleasure  I  allude  to,  is  not  what  \vas  taught  in 
'he  school  of  Epicurus.  The  pleasure  I  preach  is 
ot  the  offspring  of  sordid  or  voluptuous  gratifica- 
Aon;  but  the  child  of  God,  the  first  born  of  the 
kies.  The  epicurean  philosophy  teaches  the  sons 
Q.f  foily  to  seek  pleasure,  exclusively,  in  the  grati- 
fication of  sense,  and  perpetration  of  crimes;  the 
<loctrine  is,  of  course,  selfish  and  devilish,  without 
any  reference  to  futurity  or  moral  justice,  and  de- 
^^rades  its  votaries  to  brutes.  Is  pleasure  to  be 
found  at  the  table  of  riotous  festivity,  in  the  venial 
arms  oi  illicit  love,  in  the  haunts  of  debauchery 
and  disgust,  meanness  and  madness?  Surely  noL 
Pleasure  was  made  for  man,  and  man  was  made  for 
pleasure :  for  we  cannot  suppose  that  God,  who  is, 
was,  and  ever  will  be,  great  in  goodness,  and  good 
n  greatness,  would  make  man  for  pain,  and  pain 
ior'man — it  is  impossible.  The  moment  we  form 
such  an  estimate  of  the  Deity,  w^e  literally  insinuate 
that  he  is  great  in  badness,  and  bad  in  greatness. 
The  pleasure  1  advocate  is  of  a  delicate  temperature. 
She  is  social,  not  sensual;  she  is  god-like,  and  not 
Satanic  ;  she  disclaims  consanguinity  with  indelica- 
cy and  excess,  and  is  always  solicitous  to  maintaipc 
the  honour  of  human  nature ;  promotes  at  all  times 
in  all  places,  and  upon  all  occasions,  the  pleasurable 
feelings  DQt  only  ©f  humanity,  but  of  the  whole- 


VINDICATED.  2tb 

sensitive  cre^^tion.  She  views,  with  a  tender  tear, 
the  bleating  Jamb^  and  wooing  turtle  dove,  con* 
signed  to  death  by  the  ruthless  band  of  power  and 
pride.     Her  language  is^ 

*  No  flocks  that  range  the  valley  free 
To  slaughter  I  condemn  ; 
Taught  by  that  power  that  pities  mc 
I  learn  to  pity  them." 

Liove  is  her  partner:  wisdom,  modesty,  delicacy,^ 
cheerfulness,  benignity,  tenderness,  aad  temper- 
ance, are  her  attendants.  She  enables  her  voteries 
to  participate  measurably  the  supreme  delight,  and 
taste  the  ineffable  transports  peculiar  to  the  first 
born  sons  of  glory,  and  even  the  sovereign  of  the 
Universe. 

Wisdom  commands,  and  love  her  lectures  teach ^ 
With  more  than  mortal  eloquence  they  preach^ 
Ye  connoisseurs  and  epicures  come  hercp 
' Tis  pleasure  calls,  lend  an  attentive  ear. 

She  delights  to  dwell  in  the  sympathetic  bosom  ol 
the  fair  philanthropist ;  she  nurtures  luxuriancy  of 
thought, benevolence  ofsentiment,and  munificence, 
practically  as  well  as  theoretically ;  she  shrinks  with 
horror  from  the  rude  alarms  of  war,  from  the  clarion 
and  clangour  of  anarchy,  and  rushes  precipitate  and 
disrobed  from  the  panting,  boisterous,  and  turbu' 
lent  bosom  of  the  ardent  and  impetuous  warrior^ 
and  seeks  in  the  sequestered  abode  of  female  modes- 
ty, the  shelter  she  is  bereaved  of  in  the  habitations 
of  men  :  she  makes  the  bed  of  death  a  bed  of  roses ; 
she  carpets  the  intermediate  space  between  the 
j^rave  and  paradise,  with  ambrosial  flowers,  and  her 
votary  is  transplanted  from  an  earthly  to  a  heavenly 
garden :  as  a  gardener,  when  he  sees  the  atma?^ 

B  9. 


iTi  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

phere  big  with  showers,  and  hears  the  bellowing 
of  the  distant  thunder,  removes  his  tender  flowers 
from  the  exposure  of  the  descending  delugCj, 
the  pattering  haiJ,  orthe  howling  whirlwinds,  to 
the  safe  temperature  of  the  summer  house.  In 
short,  the  pleasure  of  the  sensualist,  when  compa- 
red to  those  of  the  philanthropist,  is  like  compa- 
ring the  rattling  of  mighty  thunder  to  the  noise  of 
a  death;  watch. 

**  Who  aids  the  cause  of  innocence  oppress'd,. 
Is  by  the  act  alone  supremely  blest. 
No  greater  rapture  man  on  earth  can  know, 
Than  that  of  feeling  and. relieving"  woe." 

An  interesting  thought  strikes  my  mind,  which  I 
will  put  down  at  once,  lest  it  slips  my  memory^ 
which  is  very  treacherous,  and  that  is,  that  women 
in  their  sphere  are  more  capacitated,  and  by  the 
endowments  of  nature,  are  more  qualified  to  obtain 
a  proficiency  in  all  the  diversified  luxuriancies  of 
this  sacred  pleasure,  than  our  sex,  who  are  too  ofteuj 
and  I  was  going  to  add,  almost  naturally  estranged 
Srom  the  divine  compasssion,  that  tender  sensibili- 
ty, that  sacred  charity,  which  is  necessarily  produc- 
tive of  the  pleasure  under  consideration.  1  would, 
therefore,  encouragie  my  amiable  readiers  to  nurture 
this  sacred  plant  of  heavenly  growth;  which,  per- 
haps, lies  dormant  for  want  of  cultivation  in  their 
tender  breasts.  Without  hesitation,  therefore,  lay 
it  under  contribution,  for  you  will  find  many  inter- 
vening causes  for  so  doing:  you  need  not  walk 
many  steps  to  find  objects  to  bestow  your  liberality 
and  sympathy  upon,  and  to  receive  in  return  the 
pleasure,  as  you  enjoy  the  emplo)rment,  which  the 
highest  and  most  exalted  angels  in  heaven  would 
he  ambitious  to  participate;  and  which  would  re- 
animate the  pleasurable  feelings  they  now  inherit, 
and  wkieh  you  will  thea  enjay.    Believe  me^.  you 


VINDICATfiB.  2m 

rfiould  think  for  yourself,  and  think  at  lar2:e,  how 
noble  you  are  by  nature,  susceptible  of  transcendent 
improvements,  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made. 
Liberty  of  opinion  is  as  much  your  pr«vilege  as 
ours,  and  is  your  natural  inheritance,  as  much  as 
your  personal  liberty. 

Human  nature  has  long  groaned,  and  still  groans 
under  the  tyranny  of  custom.  By  this  mean<i,  the 
female  mind  is  imprisoned  in  christian,  as  well  as 
pagan  countries.  Vindicate,  therefore,  the  trans- 
cendent prerogatives  of  your  nature,  and  magnani« 
mously  resolve  no  more  to  be  the  slaves  of  fashion? 
and  the  dupes  of  our  sex  It  is  the  interest  of  our's 
to  encourage  freedom  of  investigation  among  your 
sex.  Some  of  us  have  had  the  effrontery  to  assert^ 
that  women  should  be  confined  to  domestic  avoca- 
tions  alone,  and  should  leave  the  pursuits  ofarts^ 
sciences,  and  politics,  to  men  ;   and,  of  course,  re- 

frobated  the  freedom  of  investigation  for  which 
contend.  In  order  to  demonstrate  the  cogency 
of  this  remark,  and  the  fallacy,  fatality,  and  absurdity 
©fsuch  subterfuges,  I  would  as^k,  what  kind  of  a  part- 
ner, or,  to  use  scriptural  language,  helpmate,  will 
a  woman,  who  has  been  educated  as  they  generally 
are  at  present,  make  for  an  intelligent  and  benevo- 
lent man?  What  harmony  can  exist  between  them 
in  a  social  point  of  view?  Surely  none  at  all.  He 
can  take  no  more  pleasure  in  her  conversation  than 
if  she  was  of  another  species ;  consequently,  though 
their  connubial  tenderness  maybe  reciprocal, their 
intellectual  and  social  intercourse  is  far  from  being 
so  What  pleasure  can  a  man  have  in  conversatoio: 
with  his  consort,  when  all  her  thoughts,  and  talk, 
and  gestures,  are  about  fine  cloths,  fashionable  ap- 
pendages, and  splendid  equipage  ?  I  answer,  as 
much  as  he  would  enjoy  in  conversation  with  his 
dog.  Surely  then  social  and  sentimental  intercourse 
cannot  exist  between  such  a  couple.  They  are,  of 
conaeq^uence,  necessitated  to  seek  in  other  circles}^ 


ms  FEMALE  CHARACTEK 

and  in  other  company,  the  enjoyment  they  wisb 
for,  but  cannot  find  at  home.  By  this  means,  con- 
jugal  lave  is  infringed  if  not  annihilated.  Hence 
men  consider  such  a  woman  merely  as  the  appara- 
tus of  a  seraglio.  As  a  lafional  cotiipanion  she  can- 
not be  esteemed ;  and  sucl»  a  woman,  to  such  a  man, 
is,  in  fact,  nothing  else  but  a  domestic  ;  not  for 
want  of  capacity,  but  through  neglect;  for,  surely, 
the  one  is  by  nature  as  susceptible  of  improvement 
as  the  other  ;  if,  therefore,  you  wish  to  be  united  to 
a  man  of  parts^  first  qualify  yourself  for  his  com- 
pany. 

I  hope  my  fair  readers  will  excuse  my  candid  and 
pointed  phraseology,  m  the  present  momentous 
discussion.  What  subject  can  be  more  interesting 
to  them  ?  It  is  intended  to  teach  them,  in  the  most 
compendious  way,  how  to  be  respectable,  happy, 
and  glorious  in  this  life,  and  that  which  is  to  come 
Ignorance  is  the  characteristic  ot  the  savage  in  the 
Wi'derness;  and  the  civilian  in  his  palace,  if  ignor- 
ant, is  no  better.  The  mind  that  is  uninformed^ 
though  in  a  body  propped  on  a  staff,  and  shaking  as 
it  goes,  is  in  a  puerile  and  pitiable  state.  Attend  to 
the  economy  of  Providence,  and  the  curiosity  of 
the  human  mind  :  thoughts  of  futurit}^  the  contem- 
plation of  the  great  First  Cause.  All  these  will  de- 
monstrate, that  for  something  more  noble  and  ex- 
alted were  you  formed,  than  to  offer  incense  at  the 
shrine  of  fashion,  and  to  adorn  the  perishing  body 
while  the  immortal  soul  lies' in  ruins. 

The  inauiries  are  worthy  af  a  rational  creature^ 
worthy  of  the  genius  with  which  the  liberal  hand 
of  nature  has  endowed  you.  Use  her  prolific  gifts 
as  it  becomes  intelligent  beings ;  despise  the  sneer 
of  the  supercilious  pedant,  who  will  flatter  to  de- 
ceive you  ;  they  are  jealous  of  superior  attainments 
in,  and  dread  the  knowledge  of  a  woman.  Let 
the  pedantic  libertine  once  believe  a  female  is  intel- 
Mgent,  and  he  can  not,  he  dare  not^  intellectually. 


Vindicated.  274^ 

much  less  actually,  meditate  an  attack  on  her  vir- 
tue: and,  you  will  generally  find,  that  those  siily 
fair  ones,  who  become  the  victims  of  their  artifice, 
were  previously  the  foolish  and  illiterate  votaries 
of  fashion. 

I  would  ask,  for  what  was  every  faculty  adapted 
to  scientific  improvement  given  you,  in  the  same 
quota  as  to  us?  Were  they  given  by  another  god, 
or  by  a  discriminating  hand?  Surely  not.  God  is 
not,  and  why  shall  man  be,  a  respecter  of  persons. 
These  qualifications  and  capacities  were  given  to 
you  for  improve  ment ;  and,  by  neglecting  to  im- 
prove them,  you  .-in  against  the  law  of  nature,  and 
nature's  God.  And,  believe  me  to  be  your  friend, 
when  I  tell  you,  that  he  is  a  fallacious  ibe  to  your 
sex,  who  attempts  .to  establish  the  worst  kind  of 
tyranny  over  tnem — I  mean  the  tyranny  of  the 
mind.  What  illiberal  monopolizers'  of  dignity  are 
to   be  found  amongst  the  sons  of  men,   in  every 

Eart  of  the  world.  How  can  they  be  such  implaca- 
le  enemies  to  your  charming  sex?  But  it  is  your 
business  to  counteract  their  malevolent  machina- 
tions, by  using  unwearied  assiduity,  in  attaining  ot 
liberal  education  :  and,  if  you  should  already  have 
arrived  at  the  years  of  maturity,  and  cannot  attend 
to  scholastic  resources  and  researches,  you  may  at- 
tain, notwithstanding,  by  indefatigable  perseve-- 
rance,  a  sufficieney  of  polite  information,  to  put  you 
on  arx  equality,  in  point  of  intellectual  improve- 
ment, with  a  great  majority  of  our  sex.  For  my 
part,  I  have  attained  more  information  in  nin^ 
months,  by  my  individual  endeavors,  than  I  did 
from  the  most  ingcenious  tutors,  in  one  of  the  prin- 
eipal  towns  in  Europe  in  the  same  number  of  years 
1,  therefore,  can  speak  with  certainty  o«  this  head. 
The  study  of  astronomy  is  my  greatest  delight ;  or 
this  vsubject  have  I  written  and  on  it  do  I  still  con- 
template, not  only  with  inefliable  delight,  but  with 
great  benefit^  nothing  can  g^ive  us  more  glorioits 


£75  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

ideas  of  the  creation,  more  humiliating  thoughts  of 
ourselves,  or  more  confidence  in  the  goodness  of 
our  Heavenly  Father,  than  astronamical  contem- 
plations. 

I  would,  therefore,  encourage  my  fair  readers,  to 
appropriate  less  time  to  the  decoration  of  their  per- 
sons, and  more  to  the  improvement  of  their  minds. 
The  study  of  astronomy  will  be  to  them  a  most 
useful  as  well  as  entertaining  source  of  luxurious 
investigation.  The  perusal  of  sacred  and  civil  his- 
tory will  greatly  enrich  the  mind  ;  while  the  light- 
er study  of  belles  lettres  will  embellish  and  orna- 
ment it.  I  would  caution  them  to  avoid  the  volup- 
tuous rhapsody  of  the  novelist,  the  romancer,  and 
the  new  philosophy,  as  they  would  the  face  of  a  fiery 
serpent.  These  deleterious  vehicles  have  ruined 
their  millions  of  the  human  race  ;  yet  works  of  phi- 
lanthropy, morality,  and  christian  philosophy^ 
W^hich  develope  what  is  harmonious  and  amiable 
in  moral  life,  may  be  read  with  avidity,  and  be  pro- 
ductive of  utility.  From  them  we  derive  a  degree 
of  mechanical  virtue,  and  leain  to  abhor  systematic 
vice.  The  humanizing  influence  of  virtuous  poetry, 
and  its  pathetic  powers,  may  likewise  be  produc- 
tive of  cnarming  sensibility,  enthusiastic  tenderness 
and  luxuriancy  of  sentiment.  But  in  all  your  lite- 
rary researches,  you  should  never  forget,  that  the 
ingenuity  ot  the  head,  without  ingenuousness  of 
heart,  will  never  render  you  amiable  in  the  estima- 
tion of  your  or  our  sex.  If  local  circumstances 
should  leave  it  out  of  your  power  to  attain  any  de- 
gree of  proficiency  from  the  treasures  of  antiquity, 
remember  that  the  august  book  of  creation  is  open 
to  all  for  investigation,  in  it  study  the  philosophy 
of  nature.  By  this  you  may  not  only  embellisjfi 
3^our  natural  genius,  but  replenish  your  heart  with 
imperishable  beauties,  from  the  inexhaustible  ma- 
gazine of  benefactions.  And  you  shouldever  bear 
'.n   snind^  in  your   laborious    and  scientific  pur- 


VINDICATED.  276 

miiSj  that  you  are  not  toiling  for  the  acquisitions, 
fashions,  and  fopperies  which  perish  in  the  using : 
but  rather  for  the  bread  which  endureth  unto  eter- 
nal life* 

I  think  it  should  prove  a  fornr^idable  stimulus  to 
recollect,  that  while  your  corporeal  charms  lan- 
guish and  fade,  your  mental  accomplishments  will 
be  improving  to  all  eternity. 

Here  we  see  and  know  more,  and  consequently 
improve  more,  from  day  to  day;  yet  still  we  can- 
not ascertain  the  thousandth  part  of  the  uninvesti- 
gable  wonders  of  creation,  and  the  unfathomable 
benefits,  astonishing  munificence,  super-eminent 
privileges,  and  intrinsic  excellencies  of  the  cove- 
nant of  grace  and  wonders  of  redeeming  love. 
And  it  will  be  the  same,  no  doubt,  with  us  hereaf- 
ter. We  shall  see  as  much  more  of  the  immutable 
architecture  and  unutterable  benevolence  of  our 
heavenly  Father,  as  this  earth  exceeds  in  magni- 
tude the  clroiimforenco  of  a  particle  of  dust.  And 
yet  what  we  shall  then  see  (though  endowed  with 
the  same  visual  rays  as  the  most  exalted  cherubims 
and  seraphims,)  wher?  compared  to  what  is  to  be 
seen  of  his  inaccessable  glory,  brilliancy,  magnifi- 
cence, and  munificence,  will  be  like  comparing  the 
the  thousandth  part  of  a  moment  to  boundless  eter- 
nity. If,  then,  we  are  susceptible  of  such  amazing 
and  divine  improvement,  both  here  and  hereafter, 
how  reprehensible  must  we  be  to  neglect  the  im- 
provement of  our  minds,  not  only  almost  but  alto- 
gether? Instead  of  promoting,  by  our  conduct,  con- 
versation, or  writings,  the  cause  of  piety,  and  facili- 
tating the  intellectual  improvement  of  our  fellow 
travellers  to  the  grave  ;  we  contaminate  their  minds 
and  poison  the  whole  moral  system.  Surely,  we 
cannot  meet  the  approbation  of  a  just  and  holy  God^ 
if  the  sacred  remembrance  of  the  former  conduct  is 
pregnant  with  prolific  pleasures,  whether  in  a  world 
of  sycophants  or  a  world  of  spirits !  Surely^  ih/^ 


t77  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

reflection  of  the  latter  must  be  fcig  with  the  triple 
thundvrs  of  Jehovah's  indignation  and  the  ven- 
geance of  eternity. 

May  I  humbly  and  earnestly  beg  the  patience  of 
my  fair  reader,  while  I  drop  a  few  hints  on  a  subject 
that  I  have  scarcely  suggested  in  the  antecedent 
strictures,  from  a  tenacious  wish  to  accommodate 
my  matter  to  the  taste  of  the  volatile  and  gay,  who^ 
I  am  confident,  do  not  wish  to  hear  or  read  much 
about  vital  religion,  having  reserved  that  subject 
for  the  consideration  of  old  age.  Millions  of  pro- 
lix and  puerile  discourses  have  been  delivered  from 
the  pulpit  and  the  press,  doctrinal  and  practical, 
on  this  subject,  which  have  tended  to  lead  the  mind 
into  a  labyrinth  of  uncertainties,  both  premises  and 
conclusions  having  often  been  equally  ambiguous. 
By  such  performances,  religion  is  made  to  appear 
the  greatest  mystery  and  phenomenon  in  nature; 
whereas  it  is,  in  reality  the  most  simple  thing  under 

the  broad  canopy  of  heaven,  which  I  will  endeavor 

to  make  appear  in  a  few  words. 

It  is,  in  short,  nothing  more  than  pure  love  to 
God  and  man.  This  love  will  stimulate  the  soul  to 
the  performance  of  actions,  which  will  be  well 
pleasing  to  God  and  beneficial  to  man  The  omis- 
sion of  duties,  or  the  commission  of  sins,  will  grieve 
such  a  one  more  than  any  pain  or  punishment;  and 
the  performance  of  duties  will  be  productive  of  the 
sacred  pleasures  which  I  have  pointed  out  in  the 
prefixed  pages.  Such  a  soul  love&God  for  his  own 
intrinsic  excellence,  and  not  for  what  he  can  give 
or  take  away.  The  religion  of  such  a  man  is  seated 
in  his  heart,  not  his  head. 

Few  can  say  this  much ;  and  I  will  assign  an  au- 
thentic reason,  namely,  a  mistaken  notion  of  the 
severity  of  Providence,  whose  despotism  is  mag- 
nified at  the  expense  of  his  munificence.  It  is  un- 
fenerous  and  unjust  to  impute  to  God  the  evils  we 
ring  upon  ourselves,  by  our  imprudence  and  dis- 


VlNDlCA'fED-  mb 

obedience.  That  freedom  of  will,  which  is  the 
quintessence  of  our  natural  and  moral  powers^  is 
perverted  and  corrupted  by  our  perverseness,  and 
misery  is  the  necessary  result.  God  is  not,  nor 
indeed  can  he  be,  the  author  of  evil.  Could  I  be- 
lieve this  of  him,  the  supposition  would  not  only 
shake  my  confidence,  but  annihilate  my  love^ 
though  not  my  fear. 

Alas!  how  has  religion  been  dishonoured  by 
blind  and  bloody  zealots,  and  fanatics,  by  whom 
the  source  of  benevolence  has  been  metamorpho- 
sed to  a  blood  thirsty  monster.  O,  conscience,  thou 
vicegerent  of  Heaven  !  assume  thy  legal  preroga- 
tives, vindicate  the  honour  of  the  eternal,  and  let 
loose  thy  tenfold  vengeance  upon  such  enthusiastic 
and  impious  calumniators.  To  be  blinded  by  such 
fanaticism,  I  might  say  heresy  ;  and  of  course,  to 
be  ignorent  of  the  simple  religion  of  Christ ;  i.  e, 
repentance  towarda  God,  and  faith  in  our  dear  Re- 
deemer, is  the  greatest  curse  that  can  befal  a  hu- 
man being.  Reader,  may  the  good  God  open  your 
eyes  to  see  the  truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  before  you 
sleep  the  sleep  of  death.  The  most  refined  plea* 
sure  results  from  the  candid  investigation  of  §a- 
cred  truths.  For  instance,  when  I  find  that  God 
not  only  loves  the  whole  human  family  collective- 
ly but  myself  as  an  individual,  surely  this  senti- 
ment will  create  love  in  mine  or  any  generous 
breast.  Gratitude  will  revive,  and  tears  of  peni- 
tential sorrow  will  begin  to  flow;  that  is,  when  we 
readily  see,  feel,  and  believe  this  truth.  One  ex- 
pression of  gratitude  from  such  a  person,  will  be 
more  acceptable  than  a  thousand  volumes  of  formal 
declamatory  and  systematical  prayers.  One  sincere 
penitential  sigh  is  more  efficacious  than  all  the 
wicked  prayers  carried  by  proud,  perverse,  and 
petulent  devotees  to  the  church  militant  for  a  thou- 
^nd  years. 

How  many  make  a  pompous  profession  of  reli- 

F 


4lB  FEMALE  CHARACTER 

gion,and  implicitly  depend  on  forms  atid  ceremo- 
nresTor  salvation,  while  they  are  utterly^  destitute 
ol  that  christian  philanthropy  which  is  the  nerve 
of  religion,  and  without  which  it  is  an  empty  name» 
Woe  be  to  such  professors,  if  God>  shows  them  n© 
more  compassion  than  they  show  to  their  brethren. 

Before  I  conclude,  I  must  inform  the  reader,  that 
I  have  for  many  months  past  been  occasionally  pre- 
paring a  manuscript  work  on  christian  perfection, 
for  the  press.  What  induced  me  to  compose  this 
work,  was  a  happy  deliverance  I  experienced  from 
the  manacle  of  the  guilt  and  power  of  in-dwelling 
sin  some  years  ago;  and  I  may  add,  the  false  no- 
tions I  entertained  of  the  severity  of  God  whick 
kept  me  unutterably  wretched  ;  though  I  had  beea 
seeking  sincerely  and  striving  to  serve  affectionate- 
ly my  Maker  from  my  minor  state.  Alas!  by 
looking  too  much  to  the  ceremonies  of  men.  I 
neglected  to  descry  the  sympathy  of  God.  While 
listening  to  the  controversial  lecture  of  men,  J  for- 
got to  listen  to  his  small  still  voice,  who  often  cried 
in  reason^s  ear,  ''thXs  is  the  loay^  walk  ye  in  itJ** 
In  short,  I  rushed  upon  the  immediate  prrformaace 
of  the  whole  moral  law,  without  previously  taking 
Christ  and  hisrighteousness  for  my  guide  and  help 
therein,  and  of  consequence  found  both  wind  and 
tide  were  against  me>  I  never  considered  the  due 
place  of  holiness  in  the  mystery  of  salvation:  nor 
the  impossibility  of  bringing  forth  the  fruit  of  the 
spirit  without  its  aid.  I  knew  that  holiness  was 
absolutely  necessary  to  salvation,  as^the  means  to 
the  end  ;  but  never  recollected  that  it  was  part  of 
the  end  itself.  Such  was  the  madness  of  my  folly 
that  I  believed  I  was  sjived  by  good  works,  as  the 
procuring  cause  of  my  salvation;  and  forgot  that 
we  are  saved  from  bad  to  good  works,  as  the  fruits 
and  effects  of  grace,,  to  which  alone  praise  should 
redound,  and  not  to  the  miserable  creature. 

Now,  blessed  be  God,  1  see  that  holiness  is  not 


VINDICATED.  .>5i> 

anlv  a  distinguished,  but  a  central  part  of  our  salva- 
tion, where  all  the  means  of  grace,  and  ordinances 
of  religion  terminate.  To  be  saved  from  the  bon- 
dage of  sm  and  misery  here,  i«^  synonimous  witli 
being  saved  from  the  punishment  of  sin  hereafter. 
Attend  with  scrupulosity  to  these  important 
truths  my  amiable  readers,  and  your  persons  or 
minds,  will  not  be  subject  to  the  usurpation  of  tem- 
poral or  spiritual  invaders.  Pardon  me  for  enlarg- 
ing these  strictures,  such  is  the  solicitude  I  feel  for 
your  present  and  eternal  welfare,  thar  when  I  be* 
gin  to  write,  I  know  not  when  to  conclude. 


